The obvious sense, however, as in the case of Dante's Cerberus, I take to be monstrously varied,-inconsistent with itself. The dream is to make the knight's mistress contradict her natural character. THE CAVE OF MAMMON AND GARDEN OF PROSERPINE. Sir Guyon, crossing a desert, finds Mammon sitting amidst his gold in a gloomy valley. Mammon, taking him down into his cave, tempts him with the treasures there, and also with those in the Garden of Proserpine. Spenser's strength," says Hazlitt, "is not strength of will or action, of bone and muscle, nor is it coarse and palpable; but it assumes a character of vastness and sublimity seen through the same visionary medium" (he has just been alluding to one), and blended with the appalling associations of preternatural agency. We need only turn in proof of this to the Cave of Despair, or the Cave of Mammon, or to the account of the change of Malbecco into Jealousy."-Lectures, p. 77. THAT house's form within was rude and strong, 13 From whose rough vault the ragged branches hung And with rich metal loaded every rift, Her cunning web, and spread her subtle net, Enwrapped in foul smoke, and clouds more black than jet. Both roof and floor, and walls were all of gold, But overgrown with dust and old decay, And hid in darkness, that none could behold But a faint shadow of uncertain light; Or as the moon, clothed with cloudy night, Does show to him that walks in fear and sad affright. In all that room was nothing to be seen, But huge great iron chests and coffers strong, All barr'd with double bands, that none could ween Them to enforce by violence or wrong; On every side they placed were along; But all the ground with skulls was scattered, And dead men's bones, which round about were flung, Whose lives (it seemed) whilome there were shed, And their vile carcases now left unburièd. They forward pass, nor Guyon yet spake word, The charge thereof unto a covetous sprite "Certes" (said he) "I n'ill thine offered grace,14 Another happiness, another end : To them that list, these base regards I lend; And to be lord of those that riches have, 14 N'ill, ne-will, will not. The Knight is led further on, and shown more treasures, and afterwards taken into the palace of Ambition; but all in vain. Mammon emmoved was with inward wrath; With herbs and fruits, whose kinds must not be read: There mournful cypress grew in greatest store ;16 With which the unjust Athenians made to die The garden of Proserpina this hight ;17 With branches broad dispread and body great, Clothed with leaves, that none the wood might see, Their fruit were golden apples, glistering bright, Here also sprung that goodly golden fruit, Whom he had long time sought with fruitless suit; That many noble Greeks and Trojans made to bleed. The warlike elf much wonder'd at this tree In which full many souls do endless wail and weep. Which to behold, he climb'd up to the bank; That with their piteous cries and yelling shrights Deep was he drenched to the utmost chin, Of the cold liquor which he waded in: And, stretching forth his hand, did often think To reach the food which grew upon the brink; But both the fruit from hand and flood from mouth The knight, him seeing labor so in vain, Lo! Tantalus, I here tormented lie! Of whom high Jove wont whilom feasted be! But, if that thou be such as I thee see, Of grace I pray thee give to eat and drink to me !" Nay, nay, thou greedy Tantalus," quoth he; "Abide the fortune of thy present fate; And unto all that live in high degree, Example be of mind intemperate, To teach them how to use their present state." Then 'gan the cursed wretch aloud to cry, Accusing highest Jove and gods ingrate : And eke blaspheming Heaven bitterly, As author of injustice, there to let him die. He look'd a little further, and espied Another wretch whose carcase deep was drent Within the river which the same did hide : But both his hands, most filthy feculent, Above the water were on high extent, And fain'd to wash themselves incessantly, Yet nothing cleaner were for such intent, But rather fouler seemed to the eye; So lost his labor vain, and idle industry. The knight him calling, asked who he was? Who, lifting up his head, him answered thus: "I Pilate am,23 the falsest judge, alas! And most unjust; that, by unrighteous And wicked doom, to Jews despiteous Delivered up the Lord of Life to die, And did acquit a murderer felonous; The whilst my hands I wash'd in purity; The whilst my soul was soil'd with foul iniquity." Infinite more tormented in like pain He then beheld, too long here to be told: In which the damnèd souls he did behold, But roughly him bespake: "Thou fearful fool, Why takest not of that same fruit of gold; Nor sittest down on that same silver stool, To rest thy weary person in the shady cool!" All which he did to do him deadly fall |