Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013124544 Cornell University Library PR2351.M87 1897 Works, 3 1924 013 124 544 DATE DUE . mt } jiflf-*** P(W!?' ji«g ^^ /I J..U jBAPUHIUBBUiH i ^^fliglU ^Li*iii*W3fT^ w^'^ im^ ?-?H^-^,. -XfefK .^s^-^** i« j 'WUL ^-r^nr i CAYtORD THE WORKS EDMUND SPENSER s* MACMILLAN AND CO.. Limited LONDON • BOMBAY ■ CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK BOSTON " CHICAGO ATLANTA ■ SAN FRANCISCO THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. TORONTO Cfee Is not thilke the mery moneth of May . 458 Is not thilke same a goteheard prowde . . 4GC It chaunced me on day beside the shore . . 489 It falls me here to write of Chastity . l;j-'t It hath bene through all ages ever seene . 252 It often fals, (as liere it earst befell) 247 It often fals, in course of common life . . 347 It was the month in which the righteous !Maide 51 2 It was the time, when rest, soft sliding downe 538 Joy of my life ! full oft for loving you Lackyng my love, I go from place to place . 584 Leave, lady ! in your glasse of cristall clene 579 Let not one sparke of filthy lustre fyi-e . . 5S."> Like as a ship, that through the Ocean "wyde . 418 Like as a ship with dreadfull storm long tost . 377 Like as an Hynd forth singled from the heard 193 Like as the gentle hart it selfc be^i-ayes . . 391 Lo ! Collin, here the place whose plesaunt syte 4C3 Lo ! I, the ilan whose Muse whylome did maske 1 1 Loe ! I have made a Calender for every yeare . 48(i Long languishing in double maltidy 58f) Long- while I sought to what I might compare 574 Love lift me up upon thy golden wings . . 599 Love, that long since hast to thy mighty powre 592 Lyke as a huntsman after weary chace . 583 Lyke as a ship, that through the Ocean wyde . 576 Lyke as the Culver, on the bared bough. . 5Sr. Magntficke Lord, whose vertues excellent . 7 Mark when she smiles mth amiable cheare . 579 Jle thought I saw the grave where Laiu-a lay 5 ifen call yon fayi'e, and yon doe credit it 584 More then most faire, full of the living fire . 574 Most glorious Lord of lyfe ! that, on this day . 583 Most happy letters ! fram'd by skilfull trade . 584 Most Noble Lord, the pillor of my life . 8 Most sacred fyre, that biu-nost mightily . IfiS I\ry bungry eyes, through greedy covetize 578 yiy love is lyke to yse, and T to fyre 577 Ke may I, without blot of endless blame New yeare, forth looking out of .Tanus gate No wound, which warlike hand of enemy Nought is more honorable to a knight Nought is on earth more sacred or divine Nought is there under heav'ns wide hollow nesse Nought imder heaven so strongly doth, aUure Now ginnes that goodly frame of Temperaunce 1 45 Kow tiirqe a^aine my teme, thou jolly swayne 402 PAGE GOODLY golden chayne, wherewith yfere . 54 O hateful! hellish. Snake ! what furie furst . 218 sacred hunger of ambitious mindes . . 354 what an ea=;ie thing is to descry . . , 381 O ! What an endlesse work have I in hand . 291 ! why doe wretched men so much desire . 241 Of all Gods workes which doe this worlde adorne .... . . 125 Of Court, it seemes, men Courtesie doe call . 3G1 Of lovers sad calamities of old ... 229 Of this worlds Tbeati"e in which we stay . ,681 Oft, when my spirit doth spred her bolder winges . 583 One day as I unwarily did gaze . . , 575 One day I sought with her hart-thi-iUing eies . 574 One day I ^vrote her name upon the sand . 584 One day, whiles that my daylie cares did slcepe .'i3i; Penelope, for her TJlisses sake Rapt with the rage of mine o^vn raviaht thought .... . . 602 Receive, most noble Lord, a simple taste . 8 Receive, most Noble Lord, in gentle gree . 1 Redoubted Knights, and honorable Dames 206 Redoubted Lord, in whose corageous mind . 8 Rehearse to me, ye sacred Sisters Nine . . 497 Remembrance of that most Heroicke spirit . 9 Renowmed Lord, that for your worthinesse . 9 Retoume agayne, ray forces late dismayd . 574 Bight well I wote, most mighty Soveraine . 79 Rudely thou -wi-ongcst my deare harts desire . 573 See ! how the stubborne damzell dotb deprave Shall I then silent be, or shall I speake . Shepheards, that wont, on pipes of oaten reed Silence augmenteth grief, -writing encreaseth Since did I leave the presence of my love Since I have lackt the comfort of that light So oft as homeward I from her depart . So oft as I her beauty doe behold . So oft as I this history record . So oft as I with state of present time So soone as day forth dawning from the East Some Clarkes doe doubt in their devicofull art . Some men, I wote, will deeme in Artegall Soone as the moiTow fayi'e with purple beame: Sweet is the Rose, but growes upon a brere Sweet Smile I the daughter of the Queene of Love . . . , Sweet warriour ! when shall I have peace with you ? 586 .-80 581 200 296 316 343 322 91 581 INDEX TO FIRST LIMES. Tell me, good Hobbinoll, what garres thee gi-eete? -Iji Tell me, Peiigot, what shalbe the game . . 470 TeU me, when shall these wearie woes have end 578 That conuing Ai-chitect of cancred guyle . 80 That Mantuaue Poetes incompared spirit 9 The antique Babel, Empresse of the East . G08 The Chiim Pcincter, when he was reqnii'de . 10 The doubt which ye mfedeeme, fayre love, is vaine 082 The famous Briton Prince and Paery Knight 155 The famous warriors of anticke world . . 583 The gentle shepheard satte beside a springe . 484 The glorious image of the Maker's beautie . -582 The glorious pourtraict of that Angels face 575 The joycs of love, if they should ever last . 412 The laui'el-leafe, which you this day doe weare 577 The love which me so cruelly tormenteth . 579 The merry Cuckow, messenger of Spitiig . 575 The morow next, so soone as Phcebus Lamp . 211 The noble hare that harbours vertuous thought 32 The Panther, knowing that his spotted hyde . 580 Tlie paynefuU smith, with force of fervent heat 577 The praj'se of meaner wits this worke like profit brings 5 The rolling wheele, that runneth often round 575 The rugged forhead, that with grave foresight 229 The sacred Muses have made alwaies clame . 7 The shepheards boy (best knowen by that name) . 549 The soverayue beauty which I doo admire . 573 The waiK, through which my weary steps I guyde 360 The weary yeare his race now having run . 582 The world that cannot deeme of worthy things 585 They, thut iu the course of heavenly spheares ai-e skild . ... 581 This holy season, fit to fast and pray . . 576 Tho, whenas chearelesse Mght ycovered had . 224 Thoraalin, why sytteu we soe .... 45'J Those prudent heads, that with theire counsels wise 7 Though vertue then were held in highest price 296 Thrise happie she ! that is so well assured . 581 Thus when Sir Guifon with his faithful guyde 86 To aU those happy blessings, which ye have . 582 To looke upon a worke of rare devise . . 6 To praise thy life, or "waile thy worthie death 670 To thee, thou art the soramers Nightingale . 8 To you, right noble Lord, whose carefull brest 8 True he it said, wha* ever man it sayd . 279 True is, that whilome that good Poet sayd Trust not the treason of those smyling PAGE o71 ■80 TJkquiet thought ! whom at the fii-st I bred . 573 Unrighteous Lord of Love, what law is this 574 Upon a day, as Love lay sweetly slumbring . 586 Venemous toimg, tipt with vile adders sting 585 Was it a di*eame, or did I see it playne . , 584 We now have playde (Augustus) wantonly 504 Was it the worke of Natiu'e or of Ai-t . . 57ii Weake is th' assurance that weake flesh re- poseth 581 Well may I weene, faire Lailies, all this while 188 Well said the Wiseman, now prov'd true by this 267 What equaU torment to the griefe of mind . 257 "What-ever man be he whose heavle uiinde . 542 What guyle is this, that those her golden tresses 578 What man is he, that boasts of fleshly might . 60 What man so "wise, what earthly witt so ware 43 What man that sees the ever-whirling wheele 423 What Tygre, or what other salvage wight 3:17 What vertue is so fitting for a knight . 366 What warre so cruel, or what siege so sore 139 When I behold that beauties wonderment . 57fi When I bethinke me on that speech whyleai'e 436 AVhen Tix^ abodes prefixed time is spent . . 579 When stout Achilles heard of Helen's rape . 6 When those renoumed noble Peres of Greece . 579 Where is the Antique glory now become . 175 Wherefore doth vaine antiquitie so vaunt . 608 Who ever doth to temperance apply . , 102 Who ever gave more honouralale prize . . 9 Who now does follow the foule Blatant Beast 407 Who now shall give unto me words and sound 131 Whoso upon him selfe will take the skill . 310 AVho so wil seeke, by right deserts, t'attaine . 608 Wonder it is to see in diverse mindes . . 182 Wrong'd, yet not daring to-expresse my paine 504 Ye gentle Ladiea, in whose soveraine powre . 396 Ye heavenly spirites, whose ashie cinders he . 626 Ye learned sisters, which have oftentimes . 587 Ye tradefull Merchants, that, with weary toyle 575 Young knight whatever, that dost amies pro- f&i&e 27 EDMUND SPENSER. Ille velut fidis ai'cana sodalibiis olinl Credebat libris ; neque. si male cesserat, unqUanl DecuiTeiis alio, neque si bene ; quo fit ut omnis Votira pateat veluti descripta tabella Vita senis. Hither, as to their fountain, other stars Repairing in their urus draw golden light. The life of Spensee is wrapt in a similar obscurity to that which hides from us his great predecessor Chaucer, and his still greater contemporary Shakspere. As in the case of Chaucer, own principal external authorities are a few meagre entries in certain official documents, and such facts as may be gathered from his works. The birth-year of each poet is determined by inference. The circumstances in which each died are a matter of controversy. "What sure information we have of the intervening events of the life of each one is scanty and interrupted. So far as our knowledge goes, it shows some slight positive resemblance between their lives. They were both connected with the highest society of their times ; both enjoyed court favour, and enjoyed it in the substantial shape of pensions. They were both men of remarkable learning. They were both natives of London. They both died in the close vicinity of West- minster Abbey, and lie biu'ied near each other in that splendid cemetery. Their geniuses were eminently different : that of Chaucer was of the active type, Spenser's of the contemplative ; Chaucer was dramatic, Spenser philosophical ; Chaucer objec- tive, Spenser subjective ; but in the external circumstances, so far as we know them, amidst which these great poets moved, and in the mist which for the most part enfolds those circumstances, there is considerable likeness. Spenser is frequently alluded to by his contemporaries ; they most ardently recog- nised in him, as we shall see, a great poet, and one that might justly be associated with the onfe" supreme poet whom this country had then produced — with Chaucer, and they paid him constant tributes of respect and admiration ; but these mentions of him do not generally supply any biographical details. The earliest notice of him that may in any sense be termed biographical occurs in a sort of handbook to the monuments of Westminster Abbey, published by Camden in 1606. Amongst the ' Eeges, Eeginx-, Mobiles, et alij inEcclesia Collegiala B. Petri EDMUND SPENSER. Westmonasterii sepulti usque ad annum 1606 ' is enrolled the name of Spenser, witii the following brief obituary : ' Edmundus Spencer Londinensis, Anglicorum Poetarum nostri seculi facile prineeps, quod ejus poemata faventibus Musis et victuro genio conscripta comprobant. Obijt immatura morte anno salutis 1598, et prope Galfredum Chaucerum conditur qui felieissime poesin Anglicis Uteris primus illustravit. In quem hsec scripta sunt epitaphia : — Hie prope Chaucerum situs est Spenserius, illi Proximus iugenio proximus ut tmnulo. Hie prope Chaucerum, Spensere poeta, poetam Conderis, et versu quam tumulo propior. Auglica, te vivo , vixit plausitque poesis ; Nunc moritura timet, te moriente, mori.' ' Edmund Spencer, of London, far the first of the English Poets of our age, as his poems prove, written under the smile of the Muses, and with a genius destined to live. He died prematurely in the year of salvation 1598, and is buried near Geoffrey Chaucer, who was the first most happily to set forth poetry in English writing : and on him were written these epitaphs ; — Here nigh to Chaucer Spenser lies ; to whom In genius next he was, as now in tomb. Here nigh to Chaucer, Spenser, stands thy hearse,* Still nearer standst thou to hiTn in thy verse. Whilst thou didst live, lived English poetry ; Now thou art dead, it fears that it shall die.' The next notice is found in Drummond's account of Ben Jonson's conversations with him in the year 1618 : ' Spencer's stanzas pleased him not, nor his matter. The meaning of the allegory of his Fairy Queen he had delivered in writing to Sir Walter Rawleigh, which was, " that by the Bleating Beast he understood the Puritans, and by the false Duessa the Queen of Scots." He told, that Spencer's goods were robbed by the Irish, and his house and a little child burnt, he and his wife escaped, and after died for want of bread in King Street ; he refused 20 pieces sent him by my lord Essex, and said he was sure he had no time to spend them.' f The third record occurs in Camden's History of Qiieen El,izaheth [Aimales rerum Anfflicartmi et Hihernicarum regnante Eli^abetha), first published in a complete fonn in 1628. There the famous antiquary registering what demises marked the year 1598 (our March 25, 1598, to March 24, 1599), adds to his list Edmund Spenser, and thus writes of him : ' Ed. Spenserus, patria Londinensis, Cantabrigienis autem alumnus, Musis adeo arridentibus natug ut omnes Anglicos superioris sevi Poetas, ne Chaucero quidem concive excepto, superaret. Sed peculiari Poetis fato semper cum paupertate conflictatus, etsi Greio Hibernias proregi fuerit ab epistolis. Vix enim ibi secessum et scribendi otium nactus, quam a rebeUibus e laribus ejectus et bonis spoliatus, in Angliam inops reversus statim exspiravit, Westmonasterii prope Chaucerum impensig * Compare ' Underneath this sable hearse, &c.' t Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden. Edinburgh, 1711, p. 225. EDMUND SPENSER. eomitis Essexise inhmnatus, Poetis funus ducentibue flebilibusque earminibus et calamis in tumulmn oonjectis.' * This is to say ; ' Edmund Spenser, a Londoner by birth, and a scholar also of the University of Cambridge, born under so favourable an aspect of the Muses that he surpassed all the English Poets of former times, not excepting Chaucer himself, his fellow-citizen. But by a fate which stiU follows Poets he always wrestled with poverty, though he had been secretary to the Lord Grey, Lord Deputy of Ireland. For scarce had he there settled himself into a retired privacy and got leisure to wi'ite, when he was by the rebels thrown out of his dwelling, plundered of his goods, and returned into England a poor man, where he shortly after died and was interred at Westminster, near to Chaucer, at the charge of the Earl of Essex, his hearse being attended by poets, and mournful elegies and poems with the pens that wrote them thrown into his tomb.' t In 1633, Sir James Ware prefaced his edition of Spenser's prose work on the State of Ireland with these remarks : — ' How far these collections may conduce to the knowledge of the antiquities and state of this land, let the fit reader judge : yet something I may not passe by touching Mr. Edmund Spenser and the worke it selfe, lest I should seeme to offer injuiy to his worth, by others so much celebrated. Hee was borne in London of an ancient and noble family, and brought up in the Universitie of Cambridge, where (as the fruites of his after labours doe manifest) he mispent not his time. After this he became secretary to Arthur Lord Grey of Wilton, Lord Deputy of Ireland, a valiant and worthy govemour, and shortly after, for his services to the Crowne, he had bestowed upon him by Queene Elizabeth, 3,000 acres of land in the countie of Corke. There ho finished the latter part of that excellent poem of his " Paery Queene," which was soone after unfortunately lost by the disorder and abuse of his servant, whom he had sent before him into England, being then a rebdlibus (as Camden's words are) e lanbus ejectus et bonis sjpoliatus. He deceased at Westminster in the year 1.599 (others have it wrongly 1598), soon after his return into England, and was buried according to his own desire in the coUegiat church there, neere unto Chaucer whom he worthily imitated (at the costes of Robert Earle of Essex), whereupon this epitaph was framed.' And then are quoted the epigrams already given from Camden. The next passage that can be called an account of Spenser is found in Fuller's Worthies of England, first published in 1662, and runs as follows ; — ' Edmond Spencer, born in this city (London), was brought up in Pembroke-hall in Cambridge, where he became an excellent scholar; but especially most happy in Enghsh Poetry ; as his works do declare, in which the many Chaucerisms used (for I will not say affected by him) are thought by the ignorant to be blemishes, known by the learned to be beauties, to his book ; which notwithstanding had been more sale- able, if more conformed to our modern language. 'There passeth a story commonly told and believed, that Spencer presenting his poems to queen Elizabeth, she, highly affected therewith, commanded the lord Cecil, * Annales, ed. Eeame, iii. 783, t History of Elizabeth, Queen of England. Ed. 1688, pp. 664, 565, EDMUND SPENSEJi. her treasurer, to give him an hundred pound ; and when the treasurer (a good steward of the queen's money) alledged that sum was too much ; " Then give him," quoth the queen, " What is reason ; " to which the lord consented, but was so busied, belike, about matters of higher concernment, that Spencer received no reward, whereupon he presented this petition in a small piece of paper to the queen in her progress : — I -was promis'd on a time, To liave reason for my rhyme ; From tliat time mlto this season, I receiv'd nor rhyme nor reason. ' Hereupon the queen gave strict order (not without some checli to her treasurer), for the present payment of the hundred pounds the first intended unto him. ' He afterwards went over into Ireland, secretary to the lord Gray, lord deputy thereof ; and though that his office under his lord was lucrative, yet got he no estate ; but saith my author " peculiari poetis fato semper cum paupertate conflictatus est." So that it fared little better with him than with "William Xilander the German (a most excellent linguist, antiquary, philosopher and mathematician), who was so poor, that (as Thuanus saith), he was thought " fami non famse scribere.'' ' Beturning into England, he was robb'd by the rebels of that little he had ; and dying for grief in great want, anno 1598, was honourably buried nigh Chaucer in Westminster, where this distich concludeth his epitaph on his monument Anglica, te vivo, vixit plausitque poesis ; Nmic moritura timet, tfi moriente, mori. Whilst thou didst live, UVd English poetry Which fears now thou art dead, that she shall die. ' Nor must we forget, that the expence of his funeral and monument was defrayed at the sole charge of Robert, first of that name, earl of Essex.' The next account is given by Edward Phillips in his Theatrum Poetarum Anglicano- rum, first published in 1675. This Phillips was, as is well known, Milton's nephew, and according to Warton, in his edition of Milton's juvenile poems, ' there is good reason to suppose that Milton threw many additions and corrections into the Theatrum Poetarum.' Phillips' words therefore have an additional interest for us. ' Edmund Spenser,' he writes, ' the first of our English poets that brought heroic poesy to any perfection, his " Fairy Queen " being for great invention and poetic heighth, judg'd little inferior, if not equal to the chief of the ancient Greeks and Latins, or modern Italians; but the first poem that brought him into esteem was his " Shepherd's Calendar," which so endeared him to that noble patron of all vertue and learning Sir Philip Sydney, that he made him known to Queen Elizabeth, and by that means got him preferred to be secretary to his brother * Sir Henry Sidney, who was sent deputy into Ireland, where he is said to have written his " Faerie Queen;" but upon the return of Sir Henj'y, his employment ceasing, he also return'd into England, and having lost his great friend Sir Philip, fell into poverty, yet made his last refuge to the Queen's bounty, and had 500/. ordered him for his support, which nevertheless was abridged to 1001. • Father. EDMUND SPENSER. by Cecil, who, hearing of it, and owing him a grudge for some reflections in Mother Huhbard's Tale, cr/d out to the queen, "What ! all this for a song ? This he is said to have taken so much to heart, that he contracted a deep melancholy, which soon after brought his life to a period. So apt is an ingenuous spirit to resent a slighting, even from the greatest persons ; and thus much I must needs say of the merit of so great a poet from so great a monarch, that as it is incident to the best of poets some- times to flatter some royal or noble patron, never did any do it more to the height, or with greater art or elegance, if the highest of praises attributed to so heroic a princess can jxistly be termed flattery.' * "When Spenser's works were reprinted — the flrst three books of the Faerie Queene for the seventh time — in 1679, there was added an account of his life. In 16S7, Winstanley, in his Lives of the most famous English Poets, wrote a formal bio- ■ These are the oldest accounts of Spenser that have been handed down to us. In several of them mythical features and blunders are clearly discernible. Since AVinstan- le/s time, it may be added, Hughes in 1715, Dr. Birch in 1731, Church in 1758, Upton in that same year, Todd in 1805, Aikin in 1806, Robinson in 1825, Mitford in 1839, Prof. Craik in 1845, Prof. Child in 1855, Mr. Collier in 1862, Dr. Grosart in 1884, have re-told what little there is to tell, with various additions and subtrac- tions. Our external sources of information are, then, extremely scanty. Fortunately our internal sources are somewhat less meagre. No poet ever more emphatically lived in his poetry than did Spenser. The Muses were, so to speak, hij own bosom friends, to whom he opened all his heart. With them he conversed perpetually on the various events of his life ; into their ears he poured forth constantly the^tale of his joys and his sorrows, of his hopes, his fears, his distresses. He was not one of those poets who can put off themselves in their works, who can forego their own interests and passions, and live for the time an extraneous life. There is an intense personality about all his writings, as in those of Milton and of AVordsworth. In reading them you can never forget the poet in the poem. They directly and fully reflect the poet's own nature and his circumstances. They are, as it were, fijie spiritual diaries, refined self-portraitures. Horace's description of his own famous fore-runner, quoted at the head of this memoir, applies excellently to Spenser. On this account the scantiness of our external means of knowing Spenser is perhaps the less to be regretted. Of him it is eminently true that we may know him from his works. His poems are his best biography. In the sketch of his life to be given here his poems shall be our one great authority. * Thealmm Poet. Anglic, ed. Brydges, 1800, pp. 148, 149, a 2 EDMUND SPENSER. CHAPTEE I. 1652-1579. FROM Spenser's birth to the publication op the shepheard's calendar. Edmund Spenser -was born in London in the year 1552, or possibly 1561. For botfci these statements we have directly or indirectly his own authority. In his Frothalamion he sings of certain swans whom in a vision he saw floating down the river 'Themmes,' that At length they all to meiy London came, To mery London, ray most kyndly nurse. That to me gaye this lifes first native soiu'se. Though from another place I take my name. An house of amioient fame. A MS. note by Oldys the antiquary in Winstanley's Lives of the most famous English Poets, states that the precise locality of his birth was East Smithfield. East Smithfield lies just-to the east of the Tower, and in the middle of the sixteenth century, when the Tower was still one of the chief centres of London life and im- portance, was of course a neighbourhood of far different rank and degree from its present social status. The date of his birth is concluded with sufficient certainty from one of his sonnets, viz. sonnet 60 ; which it is pretty well ascertained was composed in the year 1593. These sonnets are, as we shall see, of the amorous wooing sort ; in the one of them just mentioned, the sighing poet declares that it is but a year since he fell in love, but that that year has seemed to him longer Then al those f ourty which my Ufe ont-went. Hence it is gathered that he was most probably born in 1652. The inscription, then, over his tomb in Westminster Abbey errs in assigning his birth to 1553 ; though the' error is less flagrant than that perpetrated by the inscription that preceded the present one, which set down as his natal year 1510. Of his parents the only fact secured is that his mother's name was Elizabeth. This appears from sonnet 74, where he apostrophizes those Most happy letters ! fram'd by skilfuU trade With which that happy name was first desynd, The which three times thi-ise hajjpy hath me inade. With guitts of body, fortune and of mind. The first my being to me gave by kind Pjjom mothers womb deriv'd by dew descent. EDMUND SPEI^SER. The second is the Queen, the third ' my love, my lives last ornament.' A careful examination by Mr. Collier and others of what parish registers there are extant in such old churches as stand near East Smithfield — the Great Fire, it will be re- membered, broke out some distance west of the Tower, and raged mainly westward — has failed to discover any trace of the infant Spenser or his parents. An ' Edmund Spenser' who is mentioned in the Books of the Treasurer of the Queen's Chamber in 1569, as paid for bearing letters from Sir Henry Norris, her Majesty's ambassador in France, to the Queen,* and who with but slight probability has been surmised to be the poet himself, is scarcely more plausibly conjectured by Mr. Collier to be the poet's father. The utter silence about his parents, with the single exception quoted, in the works of one who, as has been said above, made poetry the confidante of all his joys and sorrows, is remarkable. Whoever they were, he was well connected on his father's side at least. ' The nobility of the Spensers,' writes Gibbon, ' has been illustrated and enriched by the trophies of Marlborough ; but I exhort them to consider the " Faerie Queen " as the most precious jewel of their coronet.' Spenser was connected with the then not ennobled, but highly influential family of the Spencers of Althorpe, Northamptonshire. Theirs was the 'house of auncient fame,' or perhaps we should rather say they too belonged to the ' house of auncient fame ' alluded to in the quotation made above from the Frothalamion. He dedicates various poems to the daughters of Sir John Spencer, who was the head of that family during the poet's youth and earlier manhood down to 1680, and in other places mentions these ladies with many expressions ol" regard and references to his afiinity. ' Most faire and vertuous Ladie,' he writes to the ' Ladie Compton and Mountegle,' the fifth daughter, in his dedication to her of his Mother Hviherds ' Tale, ' having often sought opportunitie by some good meanes to make knowen to your Ladiship the humble affection and faithful! duetie, whicli I have alwaies professed and am bound to beare to that liouse, from whence yee spring, I have at length found occasion to remember the same Uy making a simple present to you of these my idle labours, &c.' To another daughter, ' the right worthy and vertuous ladie the Ladie Carey,' he dedicates his M^dopotmos ; to another, ' the right honorable the Ladie Strange,' his Teares of the Muses. In the latter dedication he speaks of ' your particular bounties, and also some private bands of affinitie, which it hath pleased your Ladiship to acknowledge.' It was for this lady Strange, who became subsequently the wife of Sir Thomas Egerton, that one who came after Spenser — ]Uilton — wrote the Arcades. Of these three kinswomen, under the names of Phyllis, ChariUis, and sweet Amaryllis, Spenser speaks once more in his Colin Clouts Came HoTne Again ; he speaks of them as Ttie honour of the noble f amilie Of wliich I meanest boast myself to be. For the particular branch of the Spencer or Spenser family — one branch wrote the name with s, another with c — to which the poet belonged, it has been well suggested * See Peter Cmmmgham's Introduction to Extracts from Accounts of the Revels at Court. (Sliaki- speare Society.) EDMUND SPENSER. that it -was that (settled in East Lancashire in the neighbourhood of Pendle Forest. It is known on the authority of his friend Kirke, whom we shall mention again presently, that Spenser retired to the North after leaving Cambridge; traces of a Northern dialect appear in the Shapheardes Calendar ; the Christian name Edmund is shown by the parish registers to have been a favourite with one part of the Lancashire branch — with that located near Filley Close, three miles north of Hurstwood, near Burnley. •Spenser then was born in London, probably in East Smithfield, about a year before those hideous Marian fires began to blaze in West Smithfield. He had at least one sister, and probably at least one brother. His memory would begin to be retentive about the time of Queen Elizabeth's accession. Of his great contemporaries, with most of whom he was to be brought eventually into contact, Ealeigh was bom at Hayes in Devonshire in the same year with him, Camden in Old Bailey in 1651, Hooker near Exeter in or about 1563, Sidney at Penshurst in 1654, Bacon at York House in the West Strand, 1661, Shakspere at Stratford-on-Avon in 1564, Robert Devereux, afterwards second Earl of Essex, in 1567. The next assured fact concerning Spenser is that he was educated at the Merchant Taylors' School, then just founded. This we learn from an entry in ' The Spending of the Money of Robert NoweU, Esq.,' of Reade Hall, Lancashire, brother of Alesaader Nowell, Dean of St. Paul's. In an accompt of sums 'geven to poor schoUers of dyvers gramare scholles ' we find Xs. given, April 28, 1569, to ' Edmond Spensore Scholler of the Merchante Tayler Scholl ; ' and the identification is established by the occasion being described as ' his gowinge to Penbrocke Hall in Chambridge,' for we know that the future poet was admitted a Sizar of Pembroke College, then styled Hall, Cambridge, in 1 569. Thus we may fairly conclude that Spenser was not only London born but London bred, though he may have from time to time sojourned with relatives and connections in Lancashire * before his undergraduateship, as well as after. Thus a conjecture of Mr. Collier's may confidently be discarded, who in the muster-book of a hundred in Warwickshire has noted the record of one Edmund Spenser as living in 1669 at Kingsbury, and conjectures that this was the poet's father, and that perhaps the poet spent his youth in the same county with Shakspere. It may be much doubted whether it is a just assumption that every Edmund Spenser that is in any way or anywhere mentioned in the Elizabethan era was either the poet or bis father. Nor, should it be allowed that the Spenser of Kingsbury was indeed the poet's father, could we reasonably indulge in any pretty pictures of a fine friend- ship between the future authors of Hamlet and of the Faerie Queme. Shakspere was a mere child, not yet passed into the second of his Seven Ages, when Spenser, being then about seventeen years old, went up to the University. However, this matter jjeed not be further considered, as there is no evidence whatever to connect Spenser with Warwickshire. » It may be suggested that what are called the archaisms of Spenser's style may be in part due to the author's long residence iu the country with one of the older forms of the language spoken all round him and spoken by him, iu fact his vernacular. I say in part, because of course his much, study of Chaucer must be taken into account. But, as Mr. Richard Morris has remarked to me, he could not have drawn from Chaucer those forms and words of a northern dialect which appear iu the Calendar. ED.uUNb i;p£,ys£fi. But in picturing to ourselves Spenser's youth we must not think of London as it now is, or of East Smithfield as now cut off from the country by innumerable acres of bricks and mortar. The green fields at that time were not far away from Spenser's birthplace. And thus, not without knowledge and sympathy, but with appreciative variations, Spenser could re-echo Marot's ' Eglogue au Eoy sons les noms de Pan et Eobin,' and its description of a boy's rural wanderings and delights. See his Shepheardes Calendar, December : — Wliilome in youth when flowrd my joyfuU spring, Like swallow swift I wandred here and there ; For heate of heedlesse lust me did so sting, That I oft doubted daunger had no feare : I went the wasteful! woodes and forrest wide Withouten dread of wolves to bene espide. I wont to raunge amid the mazie thicket And gather nuttes to make my Christmas game, And joyed oft to chace the trembling pricket, Or hunt the hartlesse hare till she were tame. What wreaked I of wintrie ages waste ? Tho deemed I my spring would ever last. How often have I scaled the craggje oke All to dislodge the raven of her nest ? How have I wearied, with many a stroke. The stately walnut-tree, the while the rest, "Under the tree fell all for uuttes at strife ? For like to me was libertie and life. To be sure he is here paraphrasing, and also is writing in the language of pastoral poetry, that is, the language of this passage is metaphorical ; but it is equally clear that the writer was intimately and thoroughly acquainted with that life from which the metaphors of his original are drawn. He describes a life he had lived. It seems probable that he was already an author in some sort when he went up to Cambridge. In the same year in which he became an undergraduate there appeared a work entitled, ' A Theatre wherein be represented as well the Miseries and Calamities that follow the Voluptuous Worldlings as also the greate Joyes and Plesures which the Faithful do enjoy. An Argument both Profitable and Delectable to all that sincerely loue the "Word of God. Deuised by S. John Vander Noodt.' Vander Noodt was a native of Brabant who had sought refuge in England, ' as well for that I would not beholde the abominations of the Eomyshe Antechrist as to escape the handos of the bloudthirsty.' ' In the meane space,' he continues, ' for the avoyding of idlenesse (the very mother and nourice of all vices) I have among other my travayles bene occupied aDoute thys little Treatyse, wherein is sette forth the vilenesse and basenesse of worldely things whiche commonly withdrawe us from heavenly and spiritual! matters.' This work opens with six pieces in the form of sonnets styled epigrams, which are in fact identical with the first sis of the Visions of Petrarch sub- sequently published amongst Spenser's works, in which publication they are said to have been ' formerly translated.' After these so-called epigrams come fifteen Sonnets, eleven of which are easily recognisable amongst the Visions of Bellay, published along with the Visions of Petrarch. Ther? is indefd as little difference between the two sets !oi EDMUND SPENSER. of poems as is compatible vpith the fact that the old series is written in blank verse, the latter in rhyme. The sonnets which appear for the first time in the Visions are those describing the Wolf, the Eiver, the Vessel, the City. There are four pieces of the older series which are not reproduced in the later. It would seem probable that they too may hare been written by Spenser in the days of his youth, though at a later period of his hfe he cancelled and superseded them. They are therefore re- printed in this volume. (See pp. 699-701.) Vander Noodt, it must be said, makes no mention of Spenser in his volume. It would seem that he did not know English, and that he wrote his Declaration — a sort of commentary in prose on the Visions — in French. At least we are told that this Declaration is translated out of French into English by Theodore Koest. All that is stated of the origin of his Visions is : ' The learned poete M. Frandsce Petrarche, gentleman of Florence, did invent and write in Tuscan the six firste .... which because they serve wel to our purpose, I have out of the Brabants speache turned them into the English tongue;' and 'The other ten visions next ensuing ar described of one loachim dn Bellay, gentleman of France, the whiche also, because they serve to our purpose I have translated them out of Dutch into English.' The fact of the Visions being subsequently ascribed to Spenser would not by itself carry much weight. But, as Prof. Craik pertinently asks, 'if this English version was not the work of Spenser, where did Ponsonby [the printer wlio issued that subsequent publication which has been mentioned] procure the corrections which are not mere typographical errata, and the additions and other variations* that are found in his edition?' In a -work called Tragical Tales, published in 1587, there is a letter in verse, dated i569, addressed to ' Spencer' by George Turberville, then resident in Bussia as secretary to the English ambassador. Sir Thomas Eandolph. Anthony a Wood says this Spencer was the poet ; but it can scarcely have been so. ' Ttirbennlle himself,' remarks Prof. Craik, ' is supposed to have been at this time in his twenty-ninth or thirtieth year, which is not the age at which men choose boys of sixteen for their friends. Besides, the verses seem to imply a friendship of some standing, and also in the person addressed the habits and social position of manhood. ... It has not been commonly noticed that this epistle from Eussia is not Turberville's only poetical address to his friend Spencer. Among his "Epitaphs and Sonnets" are two other pieces of verse addressed to the same person.' To the year 1569 belongs that mention referred to above of payment made one 'Edmund Spenser' for bearing letters from France. As has been already remarked, it is scarcely probable that this can have been the poet, then a youth of some seventeen years on the verge of his undergradnateship. The one certain event of Spenser's life in the year 1569 is that he was then etitered as a sizar at Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. He 'proceeded B.A.' in 1573, and 'com- menced M.A.' in 1676. There is some reason for believing that his college life was troubled in much the same way as was that of Milton some sixty years later— that there prevailed some misunderstanding between him and the scholastic authorities. « These are given in the Appendix to the present work. EDMUffD SPSNSER. He mentions his university with respect in the Faerie Queene, in book iv. canto xi. where, setting forth what yarious rivers gathered happily together to celebrate the marriage of the Thames and the Medway, he tells how The plenteous Ouse came far from land By many a city and by many a towne ; And many rivers taking under -hand Into his i\'aters as he passeth downe, The Cle, the Were, the Grant, the Sture, the Kowne. Thence doth by Himtingdon and Casibridge flit ; My mother Cambridge, whom as "^vith a crowne He doth adome, and is adorn'd of it With many a gentle Muse and many a learned wit. But he makes no mention of his college. The notorious Gabriel Harvey, an intimate friend of-Spenser, who was elected a Fellow of Pembroke Hall the year after the future poet WIS admitted as a sizar, in a letter written in 1580, asks : ' And wil you needes have my testimioniall of youre old Controllers new behaviour ? ' and then proceeds to heap abusive words on some person not mentioned by name but evidently only too well known to both the sender and the receiver of the epistle. Having compiled a hst of scurrilities worthy of Falstaff, and attacked another matter which was an abomination to him, Harvey vents his wrath in sundry Latin charges, one of which runs: 'Caetera fere, ut olim : Bellum inter capita et membra continuatum.' 'Other matters are much as they were : war kept up between the heads [the dons] and the members [the men].' Spenser was not elected to a fellowship ; he quitted his college, with all its miserable bickerings, after he had taken his master's degree. There can be little doubt, however, that he was a most diligent and earnest student during his residence at Cambridge ; during that period, for example, he must have gained that knowledge of Plato's works which so distinctly marks his poems, and found in that immortal writer a spirit most truly congenial. But it is conceivable that be pursued his studies after his own manner, and probably enough excited by his independence the strong disapprobation of the master and tutor of the college of his day. Among his contemporaries in his own college were Lancelot Andrews, afterwards Master, and eventually Bishop of Winchester, the famous preacher ; Gabriel Harvey, mentioned above, with whom he formed a fast friendship, and Edward Kirke, the ' E.K.' who, as will be seen, introduced to the world Spenser's first work of any pretence. Amongst his contemporaries in the university were Preston, author of Camhysi's, and Still, author of Gammer Gurtons Needle, with each of whom he was acquainted. The friend who would seem to have exercised the most influence over him was Gabriel Harvey ; but this influence, at least in literary matters, was by no means for the best. Harvey was some three or four years the senior, and of some academic distinction. Probably he may be taken as something more than a fair specimen of the average scholarship and ciilture given by the universities at that time. He was an extreme classicist ; all his admiration was for classical models and works that savoured of them ; he it was who headed the attempt made in England to force upon a modern language the metrical system of the Greeks and Latins. Wliat baneful influence he exercised over Spenser in this last respect will be shown presently. Kirke was EDMUND SPENSER. Spenser's other close friend ; he was one year junior academically to the poet. He too, as we shall see, was a profound admirer of Harvey. After leaving the university in 1576, Spenser, then, about twenty-four years of age, returned to his own people in the North. This fact is learnt from his friend ' E. K.'s ' glosses to certain lines in the sixth book of the Shephcardes Calendar. E. K. speaks ' of the North countrye where he dwelt,' and ' of his removing out of the North parts and coming into the South.' As E. K. writes in the spring of 1579, and as his writing is evidently some little time subsequent to the migration he speaks of, it may be believed that Spenser quitted his Northern home in 1577, and, as we shall see, there is other evidence for this supposition. About a year then was passed in the North after he left the University. These years were not spent idly. The poetical fruits of them shall be mentioned presently. What made it otherwise a memorable year to the poet was his falKng deeply in love with some fair Northern neighbour. Who she was is not known. He who adored her names her Eosalind, ' a feigned name,' notes E. K., ' which being well ordered will bewray the very name of hys love and mistresse, whom by that name he coloureth.' Many solutions of this anagram have been essayed, mostly on the sup- position that the lady lived in Kent ; but Professor Craik is certainly right in insist- ing that she was of the North. Dr. Grosart and Mr. Pleay, both authorities of im- portance, agree in discovering the name Eose Dinle or Dinley ; but of a person so Christian-named no record has yet been found, though the surname Dyneley orDinley occurs in the Whalley registers and elsewhere. In the Eclogue of the Shepkeardes Calendar, to which this note is appended, Colin Clout — so the poet designates himself — complains to Hobbinol — that is, Harvey — of the ill success of his passion. Harvey, we may suppose, is paying him a visit in the North ; or perhaps the pastoral is merely a versifying of what passed between them in letters. However this may be, Colin is bewailing his hapless fate. His friend, in reply, advises him to Forsake the soyle that bo doth thee bewitch, &c. Surely E. K.'s gloss is scarcely necessary to tell us what these words mean. ' Come down,' they say, ' from your bleak North country hills where she dwells who binds you with her spell, and be at peace far away from her in the genial South land.' In another Eclogue (April) the subduing beauty is described as ' the Widdowes daughter of the Glen,' surely a Northern address. On these words the well-informed E. K. remarks : ' He ealleth Eosalind the Widowes daughter of the glenne, that is, of a country hamlet or borough, which I thinke is rather sayde to ooloure and concele the person, than simply spoken. For it is well known, even in spighte of Colin and Hobbinol, that she is a gentlewoman of no meane house, nor endowed with anye vulgare and common gifts, both of nature and manners : but suche indeede, as neede neither Colin be ashamed to have her made knowne by his verses, nor Hobbinol be greved that so she should be commended to imraortalitie for her rare and singulai' virtues.' Whoever this charming lady was, and whatever glen she made bright with her presence, it appears that she did not reciprocate the devoted affection of the studious young Cambridge graduate who, with probably no apparent occupation, was loitering for a while in her vicinity. It was some other— he is called Menalcas in EDMUND SPENSER. one of his riral's pastorals — who found favour in her eyes. The poet could only wail and beat his breast. Eclogues I. and VI. are all sighs and tears. Perhaps in the course of time a copy of the Faerie Queene might reach the region where Menalcas and Eosalind were growing old together ; and she, with a certain ruth perhaps mixed with her anger, might recognise in Mirabella an image of her fair young disdainful self.* The poet's attachment was no transient flame that flashed and was gone. When at the instance of his friend he travelled southward away from the scene of his dis- comfiture, he went weeping and inconsolable. In the Fourth Eclogue Hobbinol is discovered by Thenot deeply mourning, and, asked the reason, replies that his grief is because The ladde whome long I loved so deare Nowe loves a lasse that all his love doth scorne ; He plongd in payne, his tressed locks dooth teare. Shepheards delights he dooth them all f orsweare : Hys pleasant pipe, whych made us meriment. He wylfuUy hath broke, and doth forbeare His wonted songs, wherein he all outwent. Colin thou kenst, the Southeme shepheardes boye ; Him Love hath wounded with a deadly darte. &c. The memory of Eosalind, in spite of her unkindness, seems to have been fondly cherished by the poet, and yielded to no rival vision — though there may have been fleeting fits of passion — till some fourteen years after he and she had parted — till the year 1592, when, as we shall see, Spenser, then living in the south of Ireland, met that Elizabeth who is mentioned in the sonnet quoted above, and who some year and a half after that meeting became his wife. On the strength of an entry found in the register of St. Clement Danes Church in the Strand—' 26 Aug. [1587] Florenc Spenser, the daughter of Edmond' — it has been conjectured that the poet was married before 1587. This conjecture seems entirely unacceptable. There is nothing to justify the theory that the Edmund Spenser of the register was the poet. It is simply incredible that Spenser, one who, as has been said, poured out all his soul in his poems, should have wooed and won some fair lady to his wife, without ever a poetical allusion to his courtship and his triumph. It is not at all likely, as far as one can judge from their titles, that any one of his lost works was devoted to the celebration of any such successful passion. Lastly, besides this important negative evidence, there is distinct positive testimony that long after 1587 the image of Eosalind had not been displaced in his fancy by any other loveliness. In Colin Clouts Come Home Again,-wnttea, as will be seen, in 1591, though not published till 1595, after the poet has ' full deeply divined of love and beauty,' one Melissa in admiration avers that all true lovers are greatly bound to him — most especially women. The faithful Hobbinol says that women have but ill requited their poet : — * This supposed description of his first love was written probably during the courtship, which ended, as we shall see, in his marriage. The First Love is said to be portrayed in cant, vii., the Last in cant. x. of book vi. of the Faerie Queene. But this identification of Eosalind and Mirabilla is, after all, but a conjecture, and is not to be accepted as gospel. EDMUND SPENSER. ' He is repayd with scome and foule despite, That yrkes each gentle heart which it doth heare.' * Indeed,' says Lucid, * I have often heard Faire Kosalind of divers fowly blamed I'or being to that awaine too cruell hard. Lucid ]iowever would defend her on the ground that love may not be compelled: — * Beware therefore, ye groomes, I read betimes How rashly blame of Rosalind ye raise.' This caution Colin eagerly and ardently reinforces, and with additions. His heart was still all tender towards her, and he would not have one harsh word thrown at her: — Ah! Sbepheards, then said Colin, ye ne weet How great a guilt upon your heads yc draw To make so bold a doome, with words unmeet, Of thing celestiall which ye never saw. For she is not like as the other crew Of shepheards daughters which emongst you bee. But of divine regard and heavenly hew. Excelling all that ever ye did see ; Not then to her that scorned thing so base. But to myselfe the blame that lookfc so hie, So hie her thoughts as she herselfe have place And loath each lowly thing with lofty eie ; Tet so much grace let her vouchsafe to grant To simple swaine, sith her I may not love. Yet that I may her honoui- paravant And praise her worth, though far my wit above. Such grace shall be some guerdon for the griefe And long afQiction which I have endured ; Such grace sometimes shall give me some reliefe And ease of paine which cannot be recured. And ye my fellow shepheards, which do see And heare the languors of my too long dying, Unto the world for ever %vitnesse bee That hers I die, nought to the world denying This simple trophe of her great conquest.' This residence of Spenser in the North, which coiTesponds with that period of Milton's life spent at his father's house at Hortcn in 'Buckinghamshire, ended, as there has been occasion to state, in the year 1577. What was the precise cause of Spenser's coming South, is not known for certain. ' E.K.' says in one of his glosses, abeady quoted in part, that the poet * for speciall occasion of private affayres (as I have bene partly of himselfe informed) and for his more preferment, removing out of the North parts, came into the South, as Hobbinoll indeede advised him privately ' It is clear from his being admitted at his college as a sizar, that his private means were not good. Perhaps during his residence in the North he may have been dependent on the bounty of his friends. It was then in the hope of some advancement of his fortunes that, bearing with him no doubt in manuscript certain results of all his life's previous labour, he turned away from his cold love and her glen, and all her country, and set his face Town-ward. EDMUND SPENSER. It is said that his friend Harvey introduced him to that famous accomplished gentleman — that mirror of true knighthood — Sir Philip Sidney, and it would seem that Penshurst became for some time his home. There has already been quoted a line descrihing Spenser as ' the southern shepheardes boye.' This southern shepherd is probably Sidney. Sidney, it would seem, introduced him to his father and to his uncle, the Earl of Leicester. If we are to take Irensens' words literally — and there seems no reason why we should not — Spenser was for a time at least in Ireland, when Sidney's father was Lord Deputy. Irenseus, in A View of the Present State of Ireland, certainly represents Spenser himself ; and he speaks of what he said at the execution of a notable traitor at Limerick, called Murrogh O'Brien ; see p. 636 of this volume. However, he was certainly back in England and in London in 1579, residing at the Earl of Leicester's house in the Strand, where Essex Street now stands. He dates one of his letters to Harvey, 'Leycester House, this 5 October, 1579.' Perhaps at this time he commenced, or renewed, or continued his acquaintance with his distin- guished relatives of Althorpe. During the time he spent now at Penshurst and in London, he mixed probably with the most brilliant intellectual society of his time. Sidney was himself endowed with no mean genius. He, Lord Leicester, Lord Strange, and others, with whom Spenser was certainly, or in all probability, acquainted, were all eminent patrons and protectors of genius. This passage of Spenser's life is of high interest, because in the course of it that splendid era of our literature commonly called the Elizabethan Period may be said to have begun. Spenser is the foremost chronologically of those great spirits who towards the close of the sixteenth century lifted up their immortal voices, and spoke words to be heard for all time. In the course of this present passage of his life, he published his first important work— a work which secured him at once the hearty recognition of his contemporaries as a true poet risen up amongst them. This work was the Shepheardes Calendar, to which so many references have already been made. It consists of twelve eclogues, one for each month of the year. Of these, three (i., vi., and xii.), as we have seen, treat specially of his own disappointment in love. Three (ii., viii., and x.) are of a more general character, having old age, a poetry com- bat, ' the perfect pattern of a poet ' for their subjects. One other (iii.) deals with love- matter.'. One (iv.) celebrates the Queen, three (v., vii., and ix.) discuss ' Protestant and Catholic,' Anglican and Puritan questions. One (xi.) is an elegy upon ' the death of some maiden of great blood, whom he ealleth Dido.' These poems were ushered into the world by Spenser's college friend Edward Kirke, for such no doubt is the true interpretation of the initials E.K. This gentleman performed his duty in a somewhat copious manner. He addressed ' to the most excellent and learned both orator and poet Mayster Gabriell Harvey ' a letter warmly commending ' the new poet ' to his patronage, and defending the antique verbiage of the eclogues ; he prefixed to the whole work a general argument, a particular one to each part ; he appealed to every poem a ' glosse ' explaining words and allusions. The work is dedicated to Sir Philip Sidney. It was published in the winter of 1579-80. More than once in the course of it, Spenser refers to Tityrus as his great master. The twelfth eclogue opens thus : EDMUND SPENSER. Tlie gentle shepheard sat beside a springe All in the shadow of a bushye brere, That Colin height, which well could pype and singe, For hee of Tityrus his songes did lere. Tityrus, on E.K.'s authority, was Chaucer. It is evident from the language — both the words and the verbal forms — used in this poem that Spenser had zealously studied Chaucer, whose greatest work had appeared just about two centuries before Spenser's first important publication. The work, however, in which he imitates Chaucer's manner is not the Shepheardes Calendar, but his Prosopopoia or Mother Huhberds Tale, which he says, writing in a later year, he had ' long sithens composed in the raw conceipt of my youth.' The form and manner of the Shepheardes Calendar reflected not Chaucer's influence upon the writer, but the influence of a vast event which had changed the face of literature since the out-coming of the Canterbury Tales — of the revival of learning. That event had put fresh models before men, had greatly modified old literary forms, had originated new. The classical influence impressed upon Europe was by no means an unmixed good ; in some respects it retarded the natural development of the modern mind by overpowering it with its prestige and stupefying it with a sense of inferiority ; while it raised the ideal of perfection, it tended to give rise to mere imitations and affectations. Amongst these new forms was the Pastoral. "When Virgil, Theocritus, ' Daphnis and Chloe,' and other writers and works of the ancient pastoral literature once more gained the ascendency, then a modern pastoral poetry began to be. This poetry flourished greatly in Italy in the sixteenth century. It had been cultivated by Sannazaro, Guariui, Tasso. Arcadia had been adopted by the poets for their country. In England numerous Eclogues made their appearance. Amongst the earliest and the best of these were Spenser's. It would perhaps be unjust to treat this modern pastoral literature as altogether an affectation. However unreal, the pastoral world had its charms — a pleasant feeling imparted of emancipation, a deep quietude, a sweet tranquilhty. If vulgar men discovered their new worlds, and trafficked and bustled there, why should not the poet discover his Arcadia, and repose at his ease in it, secure from the noises of feet going and coming over the roads of the earth ? That fine melodiousness, which is one of Spenser's signal characteristics, may be perceived in his Eclogues, as also a native gracefulness of style, which is another distinguishing mark of him. Perceivable, too, are his great, perilous fluency of language and his immense fecundity of mind. The work at once secured him a front place in the poetical ranks of the day. Sidney mentions it in his Apologiefor Poetrie ; " Abraham Fraunce draws illustrations from it in his Lawyers Logicke, which appeared in 1588; Meres praises it; 'Maister Edmund Spenser,' says Drayton, 'has done enough for the immortality, had he only given us his Shepheardes Calendar, a master- piece, if any.' It is easy to discern in Lycidas signs of Milton's study of it. During Spenser's sojourn in the society of the Sidneys and the Dudleys, letters passed between him and Harvey, some of which are extant. Prom these, and from the editorial notes of Kirke, we hear of other works written by Spenser, ready to be See this work amongst Mr. Arber'a excellent English Reprints. EDMUND SPENSER. given to the light. The -works thus heard of are Breames, Legends, Court of Cupide, The English Poet, The Dying Pelican, Stemmata Dudleiana, Slomber, Sine English Comedies, The Epithaiamion Thamesis, and also The Faerie Queene commenced. Of these works perhaps the Legends, Court of Cupid, and Epithaiamion Thamesis were subsequently with modifications incorporated in the Faerie Queene ; the Stemmata Dudleiana, Nine English Comedies, Dying Pelican, are altogether lost. The Faerie Queene had been begun. So far as written, it had been submitted to the criticism of Harvey. On April 10, 1680, Spenser writes to Harvey, wishing him to return it with his ' long expected judgment ■" upon it. Hftrvey had already pro- nounced sentence in a letter dated April 7, and this is the sentence : ' In good faith I had once again nigh forgotten your Faerie Qiceane ; howbeit, by good chaunce I have nowe sent hir home at the laste, neither in better nor worse case than I founde hir. And mi st you of necessitie have my judgement of hir indeede ? To be plaine, I am voyde o ' al judgement, if your nine Comcedies, wherunto, in imitation of Herodotus, you give the names of the Nine Muses, and (in one man's fansie not unworthily), come not neerer Ariostoes Comcedies, eyther for the finenesse of plausible elocution, or the rareness of poetical invention, than that Elvish queene doth to his Orlando Furioso, which notwithstanding, you will needes seem to emulate, and hope to overgo, as you flatly professed yourself in one of your last letters. Besides that, you know it hath bene the usual practise of the most exquisite and odde wittes in all nations, and especially in Italic, rather to shewe and advaunce themselves that way than any other ; as namely, those three notorious dyscoursing heads Bibiena, Machiavel, and Aretine did (to let Bembo and Ariosto passe), with the great admiration and wonderment of the whole countrey ; being indeede reputed matehable in all points, both for conceyt of witte, and eloquent decyphering of matters, either with Aristophanes and Menander in Greek, or with Plautus and Terence in Latin, or with any other in any other tong. But I will not stand greatly with you in your owne matters. If so be the Faery Queen be fairer in your eie than the Nine Muses, and Hobgoblin runne away with the garland from Apollo ; marke what I saye, and yet I will not say that I thought ; but there is an end for this once, and fare you well, till God or some good Aungell putte you in a better minde.' Clearly the Faerie Queene was but little to Harvey's taste. It was too alien from the cherished exemplars of his heart. Happily Spenser was true to himself, and went on with his darling work in spite of the strictures of pedantry. This is not the only instance in which the dubious character of Harvey's influence is noticeable. The letters, from one of which the above doom is quoted, enlighten us also as to a grand scheme entertained at this time for forcing the English tongue to conform to the metrical rules of the classical languages. Already in a certain circle rime was dis- credited as being, to use Milton's words nearly a century afterwards, 'no necessary adjunct or true ornament of poem or good verse, in longer works especially, but the invention of a barbarous age to set off wretched matter and lame metre.' A similar attempt was made in the course of the sixteenth century in other parts of Europe, and with the same final issue. Gabriel Harvey was an active leader in this deluded movement. "When Sidney too, and Dyer, another poet of the time, proclaimed a EDMUND SPENSER ' general surceasing and silence of bald rhymes, and also of the very best too, instead whereof they have by authority of their whole senate, prescribed certain laws and rules of quantity of English syllables for English verse, having had already thereof great practice,' Spenser was drawn ' to their faction.' ' I am of late,' he writes to Harvey, ' more in love wyth my Englishe versifying than with ryming ; whyche I should have done long since if I would then have followed your councell.' In allying himself with these Latin prosody bigots Spenser sinned grievously against his better taste. ' I like your late Englishe hexameters so exceed- ingly well,' he writes to Harvey, ' that I also enure my pen sometime in that kinde, whyche I fynd in deed, as I have heard you often defende in word, neither so harde nor so harsh [but] that it will easily and fairly yield itself to our moother tongue. For the onely or chiefest hardnesse whyche seemeth is in the accente ; whyche some- times gapeth and as it were yawneth il-favouredly, comming shorte of that it should, and sometimes exceeding the measure of the number ; as in carpenter the middle sillable being used short in speache, when it shall be read long in verse, seemeth like a lame gosling that drawetli one legge after hir. And heaven being used shorte as one syllable, when it is in verse stretched with a Diastole is like a lame dogge, that holdes up one legge.' * His ear was far too fine and sensitive to endure the fearful sounds uttered by the poets of this Procrustsean creed. The language seemed to groan and shriek at the agonies and contortions to which it was subjected ; and Spenser could not but hear its outcries. But he made himself as deaf as might be. ' It is to be wonne with custom,' he proceeds, in the letter just quoted from, ' and rough words must be studied with use. For why, a God's name, may not we, as the Grreekes, have the kingdom of oure owne language, and measure our accentes by the sounde, reserving the quantitie to the verse .' . . . I would hartily wish you would either send me the rules or precepts of arte which you observe in quantities ; or else follow mine that Mr. Philip Sidney gave me, being the very same which Mr. Drant devised, but enlarged with Mr. Sidney's own judgement, and augmented with my observations, that we might both accorde and agree in one, leaste we overthrowe one another and De overthrown of the rest.' He himself produced the following lines in accordance, as ne fondly hoped, with the instructions of the new school : — lAMBICUM TBIMETRUM. TJnhappie verse ! the witnesse of my unhappie state, [as indeed it was in a sense not meant] Make thy self e fluttring winge of thy fast flying thought. And fly forth unto my love whersoever she be. Whether lying reastlesse in heavy bedde, or else Sitting so cheerelesse at the cheerefull boorde, or else Playing alone carelesse on hir heavenUe virginals. If in bed, tell hir that my eyes can take no reste ; If at boorde, tell hir that my mouth can eat no meet© ; If at hir virginals, tell her I can beare no mirth. * * Andeni CHiical Essays, ed. Hazlewood, 181.5, pp. 259, 260, EDMUND SPENSER. Asked why ? Waking love sufEereth no Bleepe ; ; Say that raging love doth appall the weake stomacke, Say that lamenting love marreth the musicaU. TeU hir that hir pleasures were wonte to lull me asleepe. Tell hir that hir beauty was wonte to feede mine eyes, Tell hir that hir sweete tongue was wonte to make me mirth. Now doe I nightly waste, wanting my kindlie reste, Now doe I dayly starve, wanting my daily food. Now doe I always dye wanting my timely mirth. And if I waste who will bewaile my heavy chance ? And if I starve, who will record my cursed end ? And if I dye, who wiU saye, This was Immerito ? Spenser of the sensitive ear wrote these lines. When the pedantic phantasy which had for a while seduced and corrupted him had gone from him, with what remorse he must have remembered these strange monsters of his creation ! Let us conclude our glance at this sad fall from harmony by quoting the excellent words of one who was a bitter opponent of Harvey in this as in other matters. ' The hexameter verse,' says Nash in his Fowre Letters Confuted, 1 592, ' I graunt to be a gentleman of an auncient house (so is many an English beggar), yet this clyme of ours hee cannot thrive in ; our speech is too craggy for him to set his plough in ; hee goes twitching and hopping in our language like a man running upon quagmiers up the hill in one syllable and down the dale in another ; retaining no part of that stately smooth gate, which he vaunts himselfe with amongst the Greeks and Latins.' Some three years were spent by Spenser in the enjoyment of Sidney's friendship and the patronage of Sidney's father and uncle. During this time he would seem to have been constantly hoping for some preferment. According to a tradition, first recorded by Fuller, the obstructor of the success of his suit was the Treasurer, Lord Burghley. It is clear that he had enemies at Court — at least at a later time. In 1591, in his dedi- cation of Colin, Clouts Come Home Again, he entreats Ealeigh, to ' with your good coun- tenance protest against the malice of evU. mouthes, which are always wide open to carpe at and misconstrue my simple meaning.' A passage in the Ruines of Time (see the lines beginning ' grief of griefs ! full of all good hearts ! ') points to the same conclusion ; and so the concluding lines of the Sixth Book of the Faerie Queene, when, having told how the Blatant Beast (not killed as Lord Macaulay says in his essay on Bunyan, but) ' supprest and tamed ' for a while by Sir Calidore, at last broke his iron chain and ranged again through the world, and raged sore in each degree and state, he adds : — No may this homely verse, of many meanest, Hope to escape his venemous despite. More then my former writs, all were they cleanest From blamefull blot and free from all that wite "With which some mcked tongues did it backebite, And bring into a mighty P£res displeasure. That never so deserved to endite. Therefore do you, my rimes, keep better measure, And seeke to please ; that now is counted wise mens threasure. Jn the Tears of the Muses Calliope says of certain persons of eminent rank ; — b EDMUND SPFNSER. Their great revenues all in sumptuous pride They spend that nought to learning they may spare ; And the rich fee which Poets wont divide Now Parasites and Sycophants do share. Several causes have been suggested to account for this disfavour. The popular tradition was pleased to explain it by making Burghley the ideal dullard who has no soul for poetry — to whom one copy of verses is very much as good as another, and no copy good for anything. It delighted to bring this commonplace gross-minded person into opposition with one of the most spiritual of geniuses. In this myth Spenser represents mind, Burghley matter. But there is no justification in facts for this tradition. It may be that the Lord Treasurer was not endowed with a high intel- lectual nature ; but he was far too wise in his generation not to pretend a virtue if he had it not, when circumstances called for anything of the sort. When the Queen patronized literature, we may be sure Lord Burghley was too discreet to disparage and oppress it. Another solution refers to Burghley's Puritanism as the cause of the misunderstanding ; but, as Spenser too inclined that way, this is inadequate. Pro- bably, as Todd and others have thought, what alienated his Lordship at first was Spenser's connection with Leicester ; what subsequently aggravated the estrangement was his friendship with Essex. CHAPTER II 1580—1689. In the year 1580 Spenser was removed from the society and circumstances in which, ■ except for his probable visit to Ireland, he had lived and moved, as we have seen, for some three years. From that year to near the close of his life his home was to be in Ireland. He paid at least two visits to London and its environs in the course of these eighteen years ; but it seems clear that his home was in Ireland. Perhaps his biographers have hitherto not truly appreciated this residence in Ireland. We shall see that a liberal grant of land was presently bestowed upon him in the county of Cork ; and they have reetoned him a successful man, and wondered at the querulous- ness that occasionally makes itself heard in his works. Towards the very end of this life, Spenser speaks of himself as one Whom sullein care Through discontent of my long frnitlesae stay In princes court and expectation vayne Of idle hopes, which BtUl doe fly away Like empty shaddowea, did afflict my brayne. Those who marvel at such language perhaps forget what a dreary exile the poet's life in Ireland must in fact have been. It is true that it was relieved by several journeys to England, by his receiving at least one visit from an English friend, by his finding, during at any rate the earlier part of his absence, some congenial English friends residing in the country, by his meeting at length with that Elizabeth whose excelling EDMUND SPENSER. beauty he has sung so sweetly, and whom he married ; it is also true that there was in him — as in Milton and in Wordsworth — a certain great seli'-eontaincdness,* that he carried his world with him wherever he went, that he had great allies and high company in the very air that flowed around him, whatever land he inhabited ; all this is true, but yet to be cue off from the fellowship which, however self-sufficing, he so deai'ly loved — to look no longer on the face of Sidney his hero, his ideal embodied, hia living Arthur, to hear but as it were an echo of the splendid triumphs won by his and our England in those glorious days, to know of his own high fame but by report, to be parted from the friendship of Shakspere — surely this was exile. To live in the Elizabethan age, and to be severed from those brilliant spirits to which the fame of that age is due ! Further, the grievously unsettled, insurgent state of Ireland at this time — as at many a time before and since — must be borne in mind. Living there was living on the side of a volcanic mountain. That the perils of so living were not merely imaginary, we shall presently see. He did not shed tears and strike his bosom, like the miserable Ovid at Tomi ; he ' wore rather in his bonds a cheerful brow, lived, and took comfort,' finding his pleasure in that high spiritual communion we have spoken of, playing pleasantly, like some happy father, with the children of his brain, joying in their caprices, their noblenesses, their sweet adolescence ; but still it was exile, and this fact may explain that tone of discontent which here and there is perceptible in his writings, f When in 1580 Arthur, Lord Grey of Wilton, was appointed Lord Deputy of Ireland, he — perhaps through Lord Leicester's influence, perhaps on account of Spenser's already knowing something of thecountry — made Spenser his Private Secretary. There can be no doubt that Spenser proceeded with him to Dublin. It was in Ireland, probably about this time, that he made or renewed his acquaintance with Sir Walter Raleigh. In 1581 he was appointed Clerk of Degrees and Recognizances in the Irish Court of Chancery, a post which he held for seven years, at the end of which time he received the appointment of Clerk to the Council of Munster. In the same year in which he was assigned the former clerkship, he received also a lease of the lands and Abbey of Enuiscorthy in Wexford county. It is to be hoped that his Chancery Court duties permitted him to reside for a while on that estate. ' Enniscorthy,' says the Guide to Ireland published by Mr. Murray, ' is one of the prettiest little towns in the Kingdom, the largest portion of it being on a steep hill on the right bank of the Slaney, which here becomes a deep and navigable stream, and is crossed by a * One might quote of these poets, and those of a like spirit, Wordsworth's lines on ' the Character- istics of a Child three years old,' for in the respect therein mentioned, as in others, those poets are ' as little children ; ' , , . As a faggot sparkles on the hearth. Not less if unattended and alone, Than when both young and old sit gathered round, And take delight in its activity ; Even so this happy creature of herself Is aU-sufficient; Solitude to her Is blithe society, who fills the air With gladness and involuntary songs. t See Colin aout's Come Home Again, w. 180-184, quoted below. b2 EDMUND SPENSER. bridge of aix arches.' There still stands there ' a single tower of the old Franciscan monastery.' But Spenser soon parted with this charming spot, perhaps because of its inconvenient distance from the scene of his official work. In December of the year in which the lease was given, he transferred it to one Richard Sjnot. In the following year Lord Grey was recalled. ' The Lord Deputy,' says Holinshed, ' after long suit for his revocation, received Her Majesty's letters for the same.' His rule had been marked by some extreme, perhaps necessary, severities, and was probably some- what curtly concluded on account of loud complaints made against him on this score. Spenser would seem to have admired and applauded him, both as a ruler and as a patron and friend. He mentions him with much respect in his View of the Presetit State of Ireland. One of the sonnets prefixed to the Faerie Queene is addressed ' to the most renowmned and valiant lord the lord Grey of Wilton,' and speaks of him with profound gratitude : — Most noble lord, the pillor of my life, And patrone of my Muses pupillage ; Through whose large hountie, poured on me rife In the first season of my feeble age, I now doe live bound yours by vassalage ; Sith nothing ever may redeeme nor reave Out of your endlesse debt so sure a gage, Vouchsafe in worth this small guif t to recoave. Which in your noble hands for pledge I leave Of all the i-est that I am tyde t' account. Lord Grey died in 1593. Spenser may have renewed his friendship with him in 1589, when, as we shall see, he visited England. For the present their connection was broken. It may be considered as fairly certain that when his lordship returned to England in 1582, Spenser did not return with him, but abode still in Ireland. There is, indeed, a ' JMaister Spenser ' mentioned in a letter written by James VI. of Scotland from St. Andrews in 1583 to Queen Elizabeth: 'I have staled Maister Spenser upon the letter quhilk is written with my auin hand quhilk sail be readie within tua dales.' It may be presumed that this gentleman is the same with him of whose postal services mention is found, as we have seen, in 1569. At any rate there is nothing whatever to justify his identification with the poet. On the other hand, there are several circumstances which seem to Indicate that Spenser was in Ireland continuously from the year of his going there with Lord Grey to the year of his visiting England with Ealeigh in 1589, when he presented to her Majesty and published the first three books of the Faerie Queene. Whatever certain glimpses we can catch of Spenser during these ten years, he is in Ireland. We have seen that he was holding one clerkship or another in Ireland during all this time. In the next place, we find him mentioned as forming one of a company described as gathered together ht a cottage near Dublin in a work by his friend Lodovick * Bryskett, written, as may be inferred with considerable * This is the ' Lodovlok ' mentioned in Sonnet 33, quoted below. It was from him a Uttle later, in 1588, that Spenser obtained by ' purchase ' the succession to the ofBce of Clerk of the Government Council of Munster. See Dr. Grosart's vol. i. p. 151. EDMUND SPENSER. certainty, some time in or about the year 1582, though not published till 1606. This work, entitled A Discourse of Civill Life; containing the Ethike part of MoraU PUlosophle, ' written to the right honorable Arthur, late Lord Grey of Wilton' — -written before his recall in 1582— describes in the introduction a party met together at the author's cottage near Dublin, consisting of 'Dr. Long, Primate of Ardmagh; Sir Kobert Dillon, knight; JiVI. Dormer, the Queene's sollieitor ; Capt. Christopher Carleil ; Capt. Thomas Norreis ; Capt. "Warham St. Leger ; Capt. Nicholas Dawtrey ; and M. Edmond Spenser, late your lordship's secre- tary ; and Th. Smith, apothecary.' In the course of conversation Bryskett envies ' the happinesse of the Italians who have in their mother-tongue late writers that have with a singular easie method taught all that which Plato or Arisfotle have confusedly or obscurely left written.' The ' late writers ' who have performed this highly remarkable service of clarifying and making intelligible Plato and Aristotle — perhaps the * confusion ' and ' obscurity' Bryskett speaks of mean merely the difficul- ties of a foreign language for one imperfectly acquainted with it— are Alexander Piccolomini, Grio. Baptista Giraldi, and Guazzo, * all three having written upon the Ethick part of IVIorall Philosopie [sic] both exactly and perspicuously.' Bryskett then earnestly wishes — and here perhaps, in spite of those queer words about Plato and Aristotle, we may sympathise with him — that some of our countrymen would promote by English treatises the study of Moral Philosophy in English. 'In the meane while I must shiiggle vAth those bookes which I vnderstand and content myselfe to plod upon them, in hope that God (who knoweth the sincerenesse of my desire) "n-ill be pleased to open my Ynderetaiiding, so as I may reaps that profit of my reading, which I trauell for- Yet is there a gentleman in this company, whom I have had often a purpose to intreate, that as his leisure might serue him, he would vouchsafe to spend some time with me to instruct me in some hard points which I cannot of myselfe understand ; kno\ving him to be not onely perfect in the G-reek tongue, but also very well read in Philosophie, both morall and natnrall. Keuertheless such is my bashfulnes, as I neuer yet dui*st open my mouth to difiolose this my desire unto him, though I have not wanted some hartning thereunto fi'oui himselfe. For of loue and kindnes to me, he encouraged me long sithens to follow the reading of the Greeke tongue, and offered me his helpe to make me understand it. But now that so good an oportunitie is offered vnto me, to satisfie in some sort my desire ; I thinke I should commit a great fault, not to myselfe alone, but to all this company, if I should not enter my requast thus farre, as to moue him to spend this time which we have now destined to familiar discourse and conuersation, in declaring unto us the gi'cat benefits which men obtaine by the knowledge of Moral! Philosophie, and in making us to know what the same is, what be the parts thereof, whereby vertues are to be distinguished from vices ; and finally that he will he pleased to run ouer in such order as he shall thinke good, such and so many principles and rules thereof, as shall serue notonly for my better instmction, but also for the contentment and satisfaction 'of you al. For I nothing doubt, but that euery one of you will be glad to heare so profitable a dis- course and thinke the time very wel spent wherin so excellent a knowledge shal be reuealed unto 50U, from which euery one may be assured to gather some fruit as wel as myselfe. Therefore (said I) turning myselfe to M. Spenser, It is you sir, to whom it pertaineth to shew yourselfe courteous now unto us all and to make ts all beholding unto you for the pleasure and profit which we shall gather from your speech^, if you shall vouchsafe to open unto vs the goodly cabinet, in which this excellent treasure of vertues lieth locked up from the vulgar sort. And thereof in the behalfe of all as for myselfe, I do most earnestly intreate you not to say vs nay. Vnto which wordes of mine euery man applauding most with hke words of request and tlie rest with gesture and countenances expressing as much, M. Spenser answered in this maner : Though it may seeme hard for me, to refuse the request made by you all, whom euery one alone,. I should for many respects be willing to gratifie ; yet as the case standeth, I doubt not but %vith the consent of the most part of you, I shall be excused at this time of this taske which would be laid vpon me, fc- sure I am, that it is not vnknowue unto you. EDMUND SPENSER. that I haue iili'eeJy "vndcitakuii a work teudiug to the same ullcut, which is in heruical rerae under the title of a Faerie Queene to represent all the moral vertues, assigning to euery vertue a Knight to be the patron and defender of the same, in whose actions and feates of arms and chiualry the operations of that Tertue, whereof he is the protector, are to he expressed, and the vices and uni'uly appetites that oppose themselves against the same, to he beaten down and ouercome. Which work, as I haue already well entred into, if God shall please to spare me life that I may finish it according to my mind, your wish (J/. Bi^skeit) will be in some sort accomplished, though perhaps not so effectually as you could desire. And the same may very well serue for my excuse, if at this time I craue to be forborne in this your request, since any discourse, that I might make thus on the sudden in snch a subject would be but simple, and little to your satisfactions. For it would require good aduisement and premeditation for any man to vndertake the declaration of these points that you have proposed, containing in effect the Ethicke part of Morall Philosophic. Whereof since I haue taken in hand to discourse at large in my poeme before spoken, I hope the expectation of that work may serue to free me at this time from speaking in that matter, notwithstanding your motion and all your intreaties. But I will tell you how I thinke by himselfe he may very well excuse my speech, and yet satisfle all you in this matter. I haue scene (as he knoweth) a translation made by himselfe out of the Italian tongue of a dialogue comprehending all the Ethick part of Moral Philosophy, written by one of those three he formerly mentioned, and that is by Giraldl vnder the title of a dialogue of ciuil life. If it please him to bring us forth that translation to be here read among vs, or otherwise to deliuer to us, as his memory may serue him, the contents of the same ; he shal (I warrant you) satisfle you all at the ful, and himselfe wU haue no cause but to thinke the time well spent in reniewing his labors, especially in the company of so many his friends, who may thereby reape much profit and the ta-an- slation happily fare the better by some mending it may receiue in the perusing, as all writings else may do by the often examination of the same. Neither let it trouble him that I so turne ouer to him againe the taske he wold haue put me to ; for it falleth out fit for him to verifie the principall of all this Apologie, euen now made for himselfe ; because thereby it will appeare that he hath not with- drawne himselfe from seruioe of the state to liue idle or wholly priuate to himselfe, birt hath spent some time in doing that which may greatly benefit others and hath serued not a little to the bettering of his owue mind, and increasing of his knowledge, though he for modesty pretend much ignorance, and pleade want in wealth, much like some rich beggars, who either of custom, or for couetousnes, go to begge of others those things whereof they haue no want at home. With this answer of ' M. Spensers it seemed that all the ccmpany were wel satisfied, for after some few speeches whereby they had shewed an extreme longing after his worke of the Faine Queene, whereof some parcels had been by some of them scene, they all began to presse me to produce my translation mentioned by M. Spenser that it might be perused among them ; or else that I should (as near as I could) deliuer unto them the contents of the same, supposing that my memory would not much failo me in a thing so studied and advisedly set downe in writing as a translation must be." Brjskett at length assents to Spenser's proposal, and proceeds to read his translation of Giraldi, which is in some sort criticised as he reads, Spenser proposing one or two questions ' arising principally,' as Todd says, ' from the discussion of the doctrines of Plato and Aristotle.' This invaluable picture of a scene in Spenser's Irish life shows manifestly in what high estimation his learning and genius were already held, and how, in spite of Harvey's sinister criticisms, he had resumed his great work. It tells us too that he found in Ireland a warmly appreciative friend, if indeed he had not known Bryskett before their going to Ireland. Bryskett too, perhaps, was ac- quainted with Sir Philip Sidney ; for two of the elegies written on that famous knight's death and printed along with Astrophel in the elegiac collection made by Spenser were probably of Bryskett's composition, viz., The Mourning Muse of Thestylis, where 'Liffey's tumbling stream' is mentioned, and the one entitled A Pastoral Eclogue, where Lycon oifers to ' second ' Colin's lament for Phillisides. "What is said of the Faerie Queene in the above quotation may be illustrated from the sonnet already quoted from, addressed to Lord Grey — one of the sonnets that in MbMllMD SpEJ^SEk. our modern editions are prefixed to the great poem. It speaks of the great poem as Rude rymes, the which a nistick Muse did weave In savadge soyle, far from Parnasso mount. See also the sonnet addressed to the Right Honourable the Earl of Ormond and Ossory. A sonnet addressed to Harvey, is dated ' Dublin this xviij of July, 1686.' Again, in the course of the deead now under consideration, Spenser received a grant of laud in Cork — of 3,028 acres, out of the forfeited estates of the Earl of Desmond. All these circumstances put together make it probable, and more than probable, that Spenser remained in Ireland after Lord Grey's recall. How thorough his familiarity with the country grew to be, appears from the work concerning it which he at last produced. The years 1686-7-8 were eventful both for England and for Spenser. In the first Sidney expired of wounds received at Zutphen ; in the second, Mary Queen of Scots was executed ; in the third, God blew and scattered the Armada, and also Leicester died. Spenser weeps over Sidney — there was never, perhaps, more weeping, poetical and other, over any death than over that of Sidney — in his Astrophel, the poem above mentioned. This poem is scarcely worthy of the sad occasion — the flower of knight- hood cut down ere its prime, not yet In flushing When blighting was nearest. Certainly it in no way expresses what Spenser undoubtedly felt when the woeful news came across the Channel to him in his Irish home. Probably his grief was ' too deep for tears.' It was probably one of those ' huge cares ' which, in Seneca's phrase, not •loquuntur,' but ' stupent.' He would fain have been dumb and opened not his mouth ; but the fashion of the time called upon him to speak. He was expected to bring his immortelle, so to say, and lay it on his hero's tomb, though his limbs would scarcely support him, and his hand, quivering with the agony of his heart, could with difficulty either weave it or carry it. All the six years they had been parted, the image of that chivalrous form had never been forgotten. It had served for the one model of all that was highest and noblest in his eyes. It had represented for him all true knighthood. Nor all the years that he lived after Sidne/s death was it for- gotten. It is often before him, as he writes his later poetry, and is greeted always with undying love and sorrow. Thus in the Ruines of Time, he breaks out in a sweet fervour of unextinguished affection : idlest gentle spirite breathed from above, Out of the boBom of the Makers blis, In whom all bountie and all vertuous love Appeared in their native propertis And did enrich that noble breast of his With treasure passing all this worldes worth, Worthie of heaven itselfe, which brought it forth. His blessed spirite, full of power divine And influence of all celestiall grace. EDMUND SPENSER. Loathing this sinful! earth and earthlie slime, Fled backe too soone unto his natiye place ; Too suone for all that did his love embrace, Too soone for all this wretched world, whom he Hobd of all right and true nobilitie. Yet ere his happie soule to heaven went Out of this fleshie gaole, he did devise Unto his heavenlie Maker to present His bodie as a spotles sacrifise, And chose, that guiltie hands of enemies Should powre forth th' offrlng of his guiltles blood, So life exchanging for his countries good. noble spirite, live there ever blessed, The worlds late wonder, and the heaven's new ioy. Live ever there, and leave me here distressed With mortall cares and cumbrous worlds anoy ; But where thou dost that happiness enioy. Bid me, bid me quicklie come to thee, That happie there I maie thee alwaies see. Tet whitest the Fates affoord me vitell breath, 1 will it spend in speaiing of thy jiraise, And sing to thee untill that timelie death By Heaven's doome doe ende my earthlie dales : Thereto doo thou my humble spirite raise. And into me that sacred breath inspire Which thou there breathest perfect and entire. It is not quite certain in what part of Ireland the poet was living when the news that Sidney was not reached him. Was he still residing a*^ Dublin, or had he trans- ferred his home to that southern region which is so intimately associated with his name ? The sonnet to Harvey above mentioned shows that he was at Dublin in July of the year of his friend's death. It has been said already that he did not resign his Chancery clerkship till 1.588. We know that he was settled in Cork county, at Kil- colman castle, in 1 689, because Ealeigh visited him there that year. He may then have left, Dublin in 1588 or 1689. According to Dr. Birch's Life of Spenser, prefixed to the edition of the Faerie Qucene in 1761,* and the Biographia Britannica, the grant of land made him in Cork is dated June 27, 1586. But the grant, which is extant, is dated October 26, 1691. Yet certainly, as Dr. G-rosart points out, in the 'Articles' for the 'Undertakers,' which received theroyal assent on June 27, 1686, Spenser is set down for 3,028 acres ; and that he was at Kilcolman before 1591 seems certain. As he resigned his clerkship in the Court of Chancery in 1688, and was then appointed, as we have seen, clerk of the Council of Munster, he probably went to live somewhere in the province of Munster that same year. He may have lived at Kilcolman before it and the surrounding grounds were secured to him ; he may have entered upon possession on the strength of a promise of them, before the formal grant was issued. He has mentioned the scenery which environed his castle twice in his great poem ; * Dr. Birch refers in his note to The Audent and Present State of the Comity and City of Cork, by Charles Smith, vol. i. book i. u. i. p. 68-63. Edit. Dublin 1760, 8vo. And Fienues Moryson's Itinerary, part ii. p. 4. EDMUND SPENSER. but it is worth noticing that both mentions occur, not in the books published, as we shall now very soon see, in 1590, but in the books published six years afterwards. In the famous passage already referred to in the eleventh canto of the fourth book, describing the nuptials of the Thames and the Medway, he recounts in stanzas xl.- xliv. the Irish rivers who were present at that great river-gathering, and amongst them Swift Awniduff whicli of the English man Is cal'de Blacke-water, and the Liffar deep. Sad Tro-\vis, that once his people over-ran. Strong Alio tombling from Slewlogher steeij. And Mulla mine, whose waves I whilom taught to weep. The other mention occurs in the former of the two cantos Of Mutahility. There the poet sings that the place appointed for the trial of the titles and best rights of both ' heavenly powers ' and ' earthly wights ' was Upon the highest hights Of Arlo-hiU (who knowes not Arlo-hill ?) That is the highest head (in all mens sights) Of my old father Mole, whom shepheards quill Renowmed hath with hymnes fit for a rurall skill. His poem called Colin Clouts Come Home Again, written in 1591, and dedicated to Sir W. Raleigh ' from my house at Kilcolman the 27 of December, 1591 '* — written therefore after a lengthy absence in England — exhibits a full familiarity with the coimtry round about Kilcolman. On the whole then we may suppose that his residence at Kilcolman began not later than 1688. It was to be roughly and terribly ended ten years after. We may suppose he was living there in peace and quiet, not perhaps undisturbed by growing murmurs of discontent, by signs of unrepressed and irrepressible hostility towards his nation, by ill-concealed sympathies with the Spanish invaders amongst the native population, when the Armada came and went. The old castle in which he lived had been one of the residences of the Earls of Desmond. It stood some two miles from Doneraile, on the north side of a lake which was fed by the river Awbeg or Mulla, as the poet christened it. ' Two miles north-west of Doneraile,' writes Charles Smith in his Natural and Civil History of the County aud City of Cork, 1774, (i. 340, 341) — 'is Kilcoleman, a ruined castle of the Earls of Desmond, but more celebrated for being the residence of the immortal Spenser, when he composed his divine poem The Faerie Qiteene. The castle is now almost level with the ground, and was situated on the north side of a fine Jake, in the midst of a vast plain, terminated to the east by the county of Waterford mountains ; Bally-howra hills to the north, or, as Spenser terms them, the mountains of Mole, Nagle mountains to the south, and the mountains of Kerry to the west. It commanded a •(dew of above half the breadth of Ireland ; and must have been, when the adjacent uplands were wooded, a most pleasant and romantic situation ; from whence, no doubt, Spenser drew several parts of the scenery of his poem.' * Todd proposes to regard this dat« as a printer's en*or for 1595, quite unnecessaiily. EDMUND SPENSER. Here, then, as in some cool sequestered vale of life, for some ten years, his visits to England excepted, lived Spenser still singing sweetly, still, as he might say, piping, with the woods answering him and his echo ringing. Sitting in the shade he would play many ' a pleasant fit ; ' he would sing Some hymne or morall laie, Or carol made to praise his loved lasse ; he woxild see in the rivers that flowed around his tower beings who lived and loved, and would sing of their mutual passions. It must have sounded strangely to hear the notes of his sweet voice wcUing forth from his old ruin — to hear music so subtle and refined issuing from that scarred and broken relic of past turbulencies — The shepheard swaines that did about him play with greedie listf uU eares Did stand astonisht at his curioiis skill lilke hartlesse deare, dismayed with thunders sound. He presents a picture such as would have dehghted his own fancy, though perhaps the actual experience may not have been unalloyed with pain. It is a picture which in many ways resembles that presented by one of a kindred type of genius, who has already been mentioned as of affinity with him — by Wordsworth. Wordsworth too sang in a certain sense from the shade, far away from the vanity of courts, and the uproar of cities ; sang ' from a still place, remote from men ; ' sang, like his own Highland girl, all alone with the ' vale profound ' ' overflowing with the sound ; ' finding, too, objects of friendship and love in the forms of nature which surrounded his tranquil home. Of these two poets in their various lonelinesses one may perhaps quote those exquisite lines written by one of them of a somewhat differently caijsed isolation : each one of them too lacked Not friends for simple glee, Nor yet for higher sympathy. To his side the fallow-deer Came and rested without fear ; The eagle, lord of land and sea. Stooped down to pay him fealty. //e kmw the rocks which angels futuni Upon the mountains visitant; He hath kenned them taking wing ; And info caoes where Faeries sing He hath entered ; and ieen told By voices how men lined of old. Here now and then he was visited, it may be supposed, by old friends. Perhaps that distinguished son o{ the University of Cambridge, Gabriel Harvey, may for a while have been his guest ; he is introduced under his pastoral name of Hobbinol, as present at the poet's house on his return to Ireland. The most memorable of these visits was that already alluded to— that paid him in 1589 by Sir Walter Ealeigh, with whom it will be remembered he had become acquainted some nine years before. EDMUND SPENSER. Raleigh, too, had received a grant from the same huge forfeited estate, a fragment of which had been given to Spenser. The granting of these, and other sliares of the Desmond estates, formed part of a policy then vigorously entertained by the English Government — the colonising of the so lately disordered and still restless districts of Southern Ireland. The recipients were termed ' undertakers ; ' it was one of their duties to repair the ravages inflicted during the recent tumults and bring the lands committed to them into some state of cultivation and order. The wars had been followed by a famine. ' Even in the history of Irehind,' writes a recent biographer of Sir Walter Kaleigh, ' there are not many scenes more full of horror than those which the historians of that period rapidly sketch when showing us the condition of almost the whole province of Munster in the year 1584, and the years 'jnmediately succeeding.' * The claims of his duties as an ' undertaker,' in addition perhaps to certain troubles at court, where his rival Essex was at this time somewhat superseding him in the royal favour,t and making a temporary absence not undesirable, brought Raleigh into Cork County in 1589. A full account of this -idsit and its important results is given us in OoUn Clouts Come Home Again, which gives us at the same time a charming picture of the poet's life at Kilcolman. Colin himself, lately returned home from England, tells his brother shepherds, at their urgent request, of his ' passed fortuuts.' He begins with Ealeigh's visit. One day, he tells them, as he sat Under the foote of Mole, that mountaine hore. Keeping my sheepe amongst the cooly shade Of the greene alders by the Mullaes shore, a jtrange shepherd, who styled himself the Shepherd of the Ocean — tbund him out, and Whether allured with my pipes delight. Whose pleasing sound yshrilled far about. Or thither led by chaunce, I know not right — ■ Provoked me to plaie some pleasant fit. He sang, he tells us, a song of Mulla old father Mole's daughter, and of another river called Bregog who loved her. Then his guest sang in turn : — His song was all a lamentable lay Of great unkindnesse and of usage hard. Of Cynthia the ladie of the sea. Which from her presence faultlesse him debard. And ever and anon, with siugults rife, He cryed out, to make Ms undersong : Ah ! my loves queene and goddesse of ray life, Who shall me pittie when thou doest me wrong ? * Mr. Edward Edwards, 1868, l. c. vi. ; see also Colin Clouts Come Home Again, w. 312-319 t ' My lord of Essex hath chased Mr. Raleigh from the couit and confined him in Ireland.' — Letter, dated August 17, 1589, from Captain Francis AUen to Antony Bacon, Esq.— Quoted by Todd fi-om Dr. Bii'ch's Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth. — See Mr. Edwards's Life of Raleigh, I. c. viii. xl EDMUND SPENSER. AftiT they had made an end of singing, the shepherd of the ocean Gan to cast gi'eat lyking to my lore, And gi'eat dislyking to my lucklessc lot That banisht had my selte, like mght fovlore. Into that waste where I was quite forgot. ) see. and presently persuaded him to accompany him ' his Cinthia to i It has been seen from one of Harvey's letters that the Fmrw Queene was already begun in 1580 ; and from what Bryskett says, and what Spenser says himself m his sonnets to Lord Grey, and to Lord Ormond, that it was proceeded with after the poet had passed over to Ireland. By the close of the year 1589 at least three books were completely finished. Probably enough parts of other books had been written ; but only three were entirely ready for publication. No doubt part of the conversation that passed between Spenser and Raleigh related to Spenser's work. It may be believed that what was finished was submitted to Ealeigh's judgment, and certainly concluded that it elicited his warmest approval.* One great object that Spenser pro- posed to himself when he assented to Ealeigh's persuasion to visit England, was the publication of the first three books of his Faerie Queem. CHAPTER III. 1590. Thus after an absence of about nine years, Spenser returned for a time to England ; he returned ' bringing his sheaves with him.' Whatever shadow of misunderstanding had previously come between his introducer— or perhaps re-introducer — and her Majesty seems to have been speedily dissipated. Raleigh presented him to the ftueen, who, it would appear, quickly recognised his merits. ' That goddess ' To mine oaten pipe enclin'd her eare That she thenceforth therein gan take delight, And it desir'd at timely houres to heare Al were my notes but rude and roaghly dight. In the Registers of the Stationers' Company for 1 589 occurs the following entry, quoted here from Mr. Arber's invaluable edition of them : — Primo Die Decembris. — Master Ponsonbye. Entered for his Copye a book intituled the fayre Queene, dysposed into xii bookes &c. Aucthorysed vnder thandes of the Archb. of Canterbery & bothe the Wardens, vjd. The letter of the author's prefixed to his poem ' expounding his whole intention in the course of this worke, which for that it giveth great light to the reader, for the better understanding is hereunto annexed,' addressed to ' Sir Walter Raleigh, Knight, Lord Wardein of the Stanneryes and her Maiesties liefetenaunt of the county of * See Raleigh's lines entitled 'A Vision upon this Ooiiceipt of the Faery Qiw^ne,* prefixed to the ^airie Queene. EDMUND SPENSER. xU Cornewayll,' is dated January 23, 1589 — that is, 1590, according to the New Style. Shortly afterwards, in 1590, according to both Old and New Styles, was published by William Ponsonby 'The Faerie Qdeenb, Disposed into twelve books, Fashioning XII Morall vertues.' That day, which we spoke of as beginning to arise in 1579, now fully dawned. The silence of well nigh two centuries was now broken, not again to prevail, by mighty voices. During Spenser's absence in Ireland, William Shak- spere had come up from the country to London. The exact date of his advent it seems impossible to ascertain. Probably enough it was 1585 ; but it may have been a little later. We may, however, be fairly sure that by the time of Spenser's arrival in London in 1589, Shakspere was already occupying a notable position in his profession as an actor ; and what is more important, there can be little doubt he was abeady known not only as an actor, but as a play-writer. What he had already written was not comparable with what he was to write subsequently ; but even those early dramas gave promise of splendid fruits to be thereafter yielded. In 1593 appeared Venus and Adonis; in the following year Lucrece ; in 1595, Spenser's Epithalamion ; in 1696, the second three books of the Faerie Queene; in 1597 Borneo and Juliet, King Eichard the Second, and Ki7ig Richard the Third were printed, and also Bacon's Essays and the first part of Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity. During all these years various plays, of increasing power and beauty, were proceeding from Shakspere's hands ; by 1598 about half of his extant plays had certainly been com- posed. Early m 1599, he, who may be said to have ushered in this illustrious period, he whose radiance first dispersed the darlmess and made the day begin to be, our poet Spenser, died. But the day did not die with him ; it was then but approaching its noon, when he, one of its brightest suns, set. This day may be said to have fully broken in the year 1590, when the first instalment of the great work of Spenser's life made its appearance. The three books were dedicated to the Queen. They were followed in the original edition — are preceded in later editions — first, by the letter to Raleigh above mentioned ; then by six poetical pieces of a commendatory sort, written by friends of the poet — by Ealeigh who writes two of the pieces, by Harvey who now praises and well-wishes the poem he had discountenanced some years before, by' K. S.,'by 'H. B.,' by' W. L. ;' 'lastly, by seventeen sonnets addressed by the poet to various illustrious personages ; to Sir Christopher Hatton, to Lord Burghley, to the Earl of Essex, Lord Charles Howard, Lord Grey of Wilton, Lord Bucldiurst, Sir Francis Walsiugham, Sir Jolin Norris, Knight, lord president of Muuster, Sir Walter Ealeigh, the Countess of Pembroke, and others. The excellence of the poem was at once generally perceived and acknowledged. Spenser had already, as we have seen, gained great applause by his Sh^heardes Calendar, published some ten years before the coming out of his greater work. During these ten years he had resided out of England, as has been seen ; but it is not likely his reputation had been languishing during his absence. Webbe in his Discourse of English Poetrie, 1586, had contended ' that Spenser may well wear the garlande, and step before the best of all English poets.' The Shepheardes Calendar had been reprinted in 1581 and in 1586 ; probably enough, other works of his had been circulating in manuscript ; the hopes of the country had been directed xlii EDMUND SPENSER. towards him ; he was known to be engaged in the composition of a great poem. No doubt he found himself famous when he reached England on the visit suggested by Ealeigh ; he found a, most eager expectant audience ; and when at last his Faerie Queene appeared, it was received with the utmost delight and admiration. He was spoken of in the same year with its appearance as the new laureate.* In the spring of the following year he received a pension from the crown of 501. per annum. Prob- ably, however, then, as in later days, the most ardent appreciators of Spenser were the men of the same craft with himself — the men who too, though in a different degree, or in a different kind, possessed the ' vision and the faculty divine.' This great estimation of the Faerie Queene was due not only to the intrinsic charms of the poem — to its exquisitely sweet melody, its intense pervading sense of beauty, its abundant fancifalnees, its subtle spirituality — but also to the time of its appear- ance. For then nearly two centuries no great poem had been written in the English tongue. Chaucer had died heirless. Occleve's lament over that great spirit's decease had not been made without occasion : — Alas my worthie maister bonorable Thi3 londis verray tresour and rlchesse Deth by thy dethe hathe harm irreperable XJnto us done ; hir vengeable duresse Disponed hatbe this londe of swetnesse Of ^ethoryk fro us ; to TuUius Was never mau so like amonges us.t And the doleful confession this orphaned rhymer makes for himself, might have been well made by all the men of his age in England : — My dere mayster, God his soule quite, And fader Chaucer fayne would have me taught. But I was dull, and learned lyte or naught. No worthy scholar had succeeded the great master. The fifteenth century in England had abounded in movements of profound social and political interest in movements which eventually fertilised and enriched and ripened the mind of the nation ; but, not unnaturally, the immediate literary results had been of no great value. In the reign of Henry VIII. the condition of literature, for various reasons • had greatly improved. Surrey and Wyatt had heralded the advent of a brighter era. From their time the poetical succession had never failed altogether. The most memorable name in our literature between their time and the Faerie Qtieene is that of Sackville, Lord Buckhurst— a name of note in the history of both our dramatic and non-dramatic poetry. Sackville was capable of something more than lyrical essays. He it was who designed the Mirror for Magistrates. To that poem, important as compared with the poetry of its day, for its more pretentious conception, he himself contributed the two best pieces that form part of it— the Induction and the Complaint of Suckinghmn. These pieces are marked by some beauties of the same sort as those which especially characterise Spenser ; but they are but fragments ; and in spirit ® Nash's Supplication of Pierce Pennilesse, 1592. t Skeat's Specimens of EnglitU XAteraiure. p. 14, EDMUND SPENSER. xliii they belong to an age which happily passed away shortly after the accession of Queen Elizabeth — they are penetrated by that despondent tone which is so strikingly audible in our literature of the middle years of the sixteenth century, not surprisingly, if the general history of the time be considered. Meanwhile, our language had changed much, and Chaucer had grown almost unintelligible to the ordinary reader. There- fore, about the year 1590, the nation was practically without a, great poem. At the same time, it then, if ever, truly needed one. Its power of appreciation had been quickened and refined by the study of the poetries of other countries ; it had trans- lated and perused the classical writers with enthusiasm ; it had ardently pored over the poetical literature of Italy. Then its life had lately been ennobled by deeds of splendid courage crowned with as splendid success. In the year 1590. if ever, this country, in respect of its literary condition and in respect of its general high and noble excitement, was rejidy for the reception of a great poem. Such a poem undoubtedly was the Faerie Qiieene, although it may perhaps be admitted that it was a work likely to win favour with the refined and cultured sections of the community rather than with the community at large. Strongly impressed on it as were the instant influences of the day, yet in many ways it was marked by a certain archaic character. It depicted a, world — the world of chivalry and romance — which was departed ; it drew its images, its forms of life, its scenery, its very language, from the past. Then the genius of our literature in the latter part of Queen Elizabeth's reign was emphatically dramatic ; in the intense life of these years men longed for reality. Now the Faerie Queene is one long idealizing. These circumstances are to be accounted for partly by the character of Spenser's genius, partly by the fact already stated that chronologically Spenser is the earliest of the great spirits of his day. In truth he stands between two worlds : he belongs partly to the new time, partly to the old ; he is the last of onfe age, he is the first of another ; he stretches out one hand into the past to Chaucer, the other rests upon the shoulder of Milton. CHAPTER IV. 1591-1599. It is easy to imagine how intensely Spenser enjoyed his visit to London. It is uncertain to what extent that visit was prolonged. He dates the dedication of his Colin Clouts Come Home Again ' from my house at Kilcolman, the 27 of December, 1591.' On the other hand, the dedication of his Daphnaida is dated ' London this first of Januarie 1591,' that is 1592 according to our new style. Evidently there is some mistake here. Prof. Craik ' suspects ' that in the latter instance ' the date January 1591 ' is used in the modem meaning; he quotes nothing to justify such a suspicion ; but it would seem to be correct. Todd and others have proposed to alter the ' 1591 ' in the former instance to 1595, the year in which Colin Clouts Come Home Again was published, and with which the allusions made in the poem to contemporary xliv EDMUND SPENSER. writers agree ; but this proposal is, as we shall see, scarcely tenable. The manner in which the publisher of the Complaints, 1591, of which publication we shall speak present!}', introduces that work to the ' gentle reader,' seems to show that the poet was not at the time of the publishing easily accessible. He speaks of having endeavoured ' by all good meanes (for the better encrease and accomplishment of your delights) to get into my hands such small poems of the same authors, as I heard were disperst abroad in sundrie hands, and not easie to bee come by by himselfe ; some of thera having been diverslie imbeziled and purloyned from him since his departure ouer sea.' He says he understands Spenser ' wrote sundrie others ' besides those now collected, ' besides some other Pamphlets looselie scattered abroad . . which when I can either by himselfe or otherwise attaine too I meane likemse for your fauour sake to set foorth.' It may be supposed with much probability that Spenser returned to his Irish castle some time in 1591, in all likelihood after February, in which month he received the pension mentioned above, and on the other hand so as to have time to write the original draught of Colin Clouts Come Home Again before the close of December. The reception of the Faerie Queene had been so favourable that in 1591 — it would seem, as has been shown, after Spenser's departure — the publisher of that poem determined to put forth what other poems by the same hand he could gather together. The result was a volume entitled ' Complaints, containing sundrie small Poemes of the Worlds Vanitie, whereof the next page maketh mention. By Ed. Sp.' 'The next page ' contains ' a note of the Sundrie Poemes contained in this volume: ' 1. The Ruines of Time. •2. Tie Teares of the Muses. 3. Virgils Gnat. 4. Prosopopoia or Mother Hubbards Tale. 5. The Ruines of Rome, by Bellay. 6. Muiopotmos or The Tale of the Butterflie. 7. Visions of the Worlds Vanitie. 8. Bellayes Visions. 9. Petrarches Visions. In a short notice addressed to the Gentle Reader which follows — the notice just referred to — the publisher of the volume mentions other works by Spenser, and promises to pubUsh them too ' when he can attain to ' them. These works are Eccle- siastes, The Seven Psalms, and Canticnm Cantieorum — these three no doubt trans- lations of parts of the Old Testament— 4 Sennight SluTnber, The State of Lovers, the Di/ing Pelican — doubtless the work mentioned, as has been seen, in one of Spenser's letters to Harvey — Tlie Rowers of the Lord, and The Sacrifice of a Sinner. Many of these works had probably been passing from hand to hand in manuscript for many years. That old method of circulation survived the invention of the printing press for many generations. The perils of it may be illustrated from the fate of the works just mentioned. It would seem that the publisher never did attain to them ; and they have all perished. "With regard to the works which were printed and preserved, the Euines of Time, as the Dedication .shows, was written during Spenser's memorable visit of 1589-91 to England. It is in fact an elegy dedicated to the Countess of Pembroke, on the death of Sir Philip Sidney, ' that most brave Knight, your most EDMUAW SPENSER. xlv uoble brother deceased.' ' Sithens my late cumming into England,' the poet writes in the Epistle Dedicatorie, ' some friends of mine (which might much prevaile with me and indeede commaund me) knowing with howe straight bandes of duetie I was tied to him ; as also bound unto that noble house (of wliich the chiefe hope then rested in him) have sought to revive them by upbraiding me ; for that I have nob shewed anie thankefull remembrance towards him or any of them ; but suffer their names to sleep in silence and forgetfulnesse. Whome chiefiie to satisfie, or els to aroide that fowle blot of unthankefnlnesse, I have conceived this small Poeme, intituled by a generall name of the Worlds Buines : yet speciallie intended to the renowming of that noble race from which both you and he sprong, and to the eter- nizing of some of the chiefe of them late deceased.' This poem is written in a tone that had been extremely frequent during Spenser's youth. Its text is that ancient one ' Vanity of Vanities ; all is Vanity ' — a very obvious text in all ages, but perhaps especially so, as has been hinted, in the sixteenth century, and one very frequently adopted at that time. This text is treated in a manner characteristic of the age. It is exemplified by a series of visions. The poet represents himself as seeing at Verulam an apparition of a woman weeping over the decay of that ancient town. This woman stands for the town itself. Of its whilome glories, she says, after a vain recounting of them, They all are gone and aU with them is gone, Ne ought to me remaines, but to lament My long decay. No one, she continues, weeps with her, no one remembers her, Save one that maugi-e fortunes injuria And times decay, and enuies cruell tort Hath writ my record in true seeming sort. Cambden the uourioe of antiquitie, And lanterns unto late succeeding age. To see the light of simple veritie Bm-ied in mines, through the gi-eat outrage Of her owne people, led with warlike rage, Cambden, though time all moniments obscure. Yet thy ]ust labours ever shall endure. Then she rebukes herself for these selfish moanings by calling to mind how far from solitary she is in her desolation. She recalls to mind the great ones of the land who have lately fallen— Leicester, and Warwick, and Sidney— and wonders no longer at her own ruin. Is not Transit Gloria the lesson taught everywhere ? Then other visions and emblems of instability are seen, some of them not darkly suggesting that what passes away from earth and apparently ends may perhaps be glorified elsewhere. The second of these collected poems — The. Teares of the il/«scs— dedicated, as we have seen, to one of the poet's fair cousins, the Lady Strange, deplores the general intellec- tual condition of the time. It is doubtful whether Spenser fully conceived what a brilKant literary age was beginning about the year 1590. Perhaps his long absence in Ireland, the death of Sidney who was the great hope of England Spenser knew, the ecclesiastical controversies raging when he revisited England, may partly account c xlv! EDMUND SPENSM for his despondent tone with reference to literature. He introduces each Muse weep- ing for the neglect and contempt suffered by her respective province. He who describes these tears was himself destined to dry them ; and Shakspere, who, if anyone, was to make the faces of the Muses blithe and bright, was now rapidly approaching his prime. There can be little doubt that at a later time Spenser was acquainted with Shakspere ; for Spenser was an intimate friend of the Earl of Essex ; Shakspere was an intimate friend of the Eu-l of Southampton, who was one of the most attached friends of that Earl of Essex. And a personal acquaintance with Shakspere may have been one of the most memorable events of Spenser's visit to London in 1589. We would gladly think that Thalia in the Teares of the Muses refers in the following passage to Shakspere : the comic stage, she says, is degraded. And he the man whom Nature selfe had made To mock herselfe and Truth to imitate, With kindly counter under Mimick shade, Our pleasant Willy, ah I is dead of late ; With whom all joy and ]olly merimenb Is also deaded and in dolour drent. The context shows that by ' dead ' is not meant physical death, but that That same geutle spirit, from whose pen Large streames of honnie and sweete nectar flowe, produces nothing, sits idle-handed and silent, rather than pander to the grosser tastes of the day. But this view, attractive as it is, can perhaps hardly be maintained. Though the Tears of the Muses was not published, as we have seen, till 1591, it was probably written some years earlier, and so before the star of Shakspere had arisen. Possibly by Willy is meant Sir Philip Sidney, a favourite haunt of whose was his sister's house at Wilton on the river Wiley or Willey, and who had exhibited some comic power in his masque. The Lady of May, acted before the Queen in 1578, Some scholars, however, take ' Willy ' to denote John Lily, Thus the passage at present remains dark. If written in 1 590, it certainly cannot mean Sidney, who had been dead some years ; just possibly, but not probably, it might in that case mean Shakspere. Of the remaining works published in the Complaints, the only other one of recent composition is Muiopotmos, which, as Prof. Craik suggests, would seem to be an allegorical narrative of some matter recently transpired. It is dated 1590, but nothing is known of any earlier edition than that which appears in the Complaints. Of the other pieces by far the most interesting is Frosopopoia, or Mother Hubhards Tale, not . only because it is in it, as has been said, Spenser most carefully, though far from successfully, imitates his great master Chaucer, but for its intrinsic merit — for its easy style, its various incidents, its social pictures. In the dedication he speaks of it as ' These my idle labours : which having long sithens composed in tJte raw conceipt of my youth, I lately amongst other papers lighted upon, and was by others, which liked the same, mooved to set them foorth.' However long before its publication the poem in the main was written, possibly some additions were made to it in or about the year 1690; as for instance, the well-known passage describing ' a suitor's state,' which reflects too clearly a bitter personal experience to have been composed before Spenser \\a{\ tTV^vart sn familiu^* «;ifli tVifi (\c\nvi. fls Vio bp.p.flTTlp dnrirKy Ills viail- tn "RTuvl-jni-l nnflpf EDMUND SPENSER. xlvii Raleigh's patronage. But it is conceivable that his experience in 1578 and 1579 in- spired the lines in question. The remaining pieces in the Complaints consist of translations or imitations, com- posed probably some years before, though probably in some cases, as has been sho wn, revised or altogether recast. Probably in the same year with the Complaints — that is in 1591 — was published Dwphnaida,^ ' an Elegie upon the death of the noble and vertuous Douglas Howard, daughter and heire of Henry Lord Howard, Viscount "Byndon, and wife of Arthur Georges, Esquire.' This elegy was no doubt written before Spenser returned to Ireland. It is marked by his characteristic diffuseness, abundance, melody. Certainly before the close of the year 1591 Spenser found himself once more in his old castle of Kilcolman. A life at Court could never have suited him, however irksome- at times his isolation in Ireland may have seemed. When his friends wondered at his returning unto This barrein soyle. Where cold and care and penury do dwell. Here to keep sheepe with hunger and with toyle, he made answer that he, Whose former dayes Had in rude fields bene altogether spent. Durst not adventure such unlmowen wayes, Nor trust the guile of fortunes blandishmeut ; But rather chose back to my sheepe to tourue. Whose utmost barduesse I before had tryde. Then, having learnd repentance late, to mom-ue Emongst those wretches which I there descryde. That life, with all its intrigues and self-seekings and scandals, had no charms for him. Once more settled in his home, he wrote an account of his recent absence from it, which he entitled Colin Clouts Come Home Again. This poem was not published tiU 1595 ; but, whatever additions were subsequently made to it, there can be no doubt it was originally written immediately after his return to Ireland. Sitting in the quiet to which he was but now restored, he reviewed the splendid scenes he had lately witnessed ; he recounted the famous wits he had met, and the fair ladies he had seen in the great London world ; and dedicated this exquisite diary to the friend who had introduced him into that brilliant circle. It would seem that I?aleigh had accused him of indolence. That ever-restless schemer could not appreciate the poet's dreaminess. ' That you may see,' writes Spenser, ' that I am not alwaies ydle as yee think, though not greatly well occupied, nor altogither undutifiill, though not precisely ofScious, I make you present of this simple pastorall, unworthie of your higher conceipt for the meanesse of the stile, but agreeing with the truth in circiuustance and matter. The which I humbly beseech you to accept in part of paiment of the infinite debt in which I acknowledge myselfe bounden unto you for your singular favours and Bundrie good turnes shewed to me at my late being in England, &c.' The conclusion of this poem commemorates, as we have seen, Spenser's enduring * This poem is in this volume reprinted from the edition of 1591. Mr. Morris thinks that Todd was not aware of this edition. Mr. Collier reprinted from the 2nd edition— that of ISUU, c2 xlviii EDMUND SPENSBR. aifeotion for that Rosalind who so many years before had turned away her ears from his suit. It must have been some twelve months after those lines were penned, that the writer conceived an ardent attachment for one Elizabeth. The active research of Dr. Grosart has discovered that this lady belonged to the Boyle family — a family already of importance and destined to be famous. The family seat was at Kilcoran, near Youghal, and so we understand Spenser's singing of ' The sea that neighbours to her near.' Thiis she lived in the same county with her poet. The whole course of the wooing and the winning is portrayed in the Amoretti or Sonnet! and the Epithalamium. It may be gathered from these biographically and otherwise interesting pieces, that it was at the close of the year 1592 that the poet was made a captive of that beauty he so fondly describes. The first three sonnets would seem to have been written in that year. The fourth celebrates the beginning of the year 1/593 — the beginning according to our modern way of reckoning. All through that year 1693 the lover sighed, beseeched, adored, despaired, prayed again. Fifty-eight sonnets chronicle the various hopes and fears of that year. The object of his passion re- mained as steel and flint, while he wept and wailed and pleaded. His life was a long torment. ^^ vaine I seeke and sew to her for gi-acc And doe myne humbled hart before her poure ; The whiles her foot she in my necke doth place And tread my life downe in the lowly flom-e. In Lent she is his 'sweet saynt,' and he vows to find some fit service for her. Her temple fayre is built within my mind In which her glorious image placed is , But all his devotion profited nothing, and he thinks it were better ' at once to die.' He marvels at her cruelty. He cannot address himself to the further composition of his great poem. The accomplishment of that great work were SutRcient werke for one man's simple head. All were it, as the rest, but rudely writ. How then should I, "without another wit, Thinck ever to endure so tedious toyle ! Sith that this one is t»st with troublous fit Of a proud love that doth my spii'it spoyle. He falls ill in his body too. When the anniversary of his being carried int<}_captivity comes round, he declares, as has been already quoted, that the year just elapsed has appeared longer than all the forty years of his life that had preceded it (sonnet 60). In the beginning of the year 1594, After long stonnes and tempests sad assay "Which hardly I endured hertofoi-e In dread of death and daungerous dismay With which my silly bark was tossed sore, he did 'at length descry the happy shore.' The heart of his mistress softened towards him. The last twenty-five sonnets are for the most part the songs of a lover accepted and happy. It would seem that by this time he had completed tliree more books of the Faerie Queeiie. and he asks leave in sonnet 70, EDMUND SPENSER. xlix In pleasant mew To sport my Muse and sing mj' loves sweet prai^:e, The contemplation of whose heavenly hew My spirit to an higher pitch doth raise. Probably the Sixth Book was coiicludod in the first part of the year 1594, just after his long wooing had been crowned with success. In the tenth canto of that book he introduces the lady of his love, and himself ' piping ' unto her. In a rarely pleasant place on a fair wooded hill-top Calidore sees the Graces dancing, and Colin Clout piping merrily. With these goddesses is a fourth maid ; it is to her alone that Colin pipes ; — Fype, ioUy shepheard, pype thou now apace Unto thy love that made thee low to lout ; Thy love is present there \vith thee in place ; Thy love is there advaunst to be another Grace. Of this fourth maid the poet, after sweetly praising the daughters of sky-ruling Jove, sings in this wise : — "Who can aread what creature mote she bee ; Whether a creature or a goddesse graced With heavenly gifts fi'om heven first enraced ? But what so sure she was, she worthy was To he the fourth with those three other placed. Yet was she certes but a countrey lasse ; Yet she all other countrey lasses farre did passe. So farre, as doth the daughter of the day AU other leaser lights in light excell ; So farre doth she in beautyfuU array Above all other lasses beare the bell ; Ne lesse in vertue that beseems her well Doth she exceede the rest of all her race. The phrase ' country lass ' in this rapturous passage has been taken to signify that she to whom it is applied was of mean origin ; but it scarcely bears this construction. Probably all that is meant is that her family was not connected with the Court or the Court circle. She was not high-born ; but she was not low-bom. The final sonnets refer to some malicious reports circulating about him, and to some local separation between the sonneteer and his mistress. This separation was certainly ended in the June following his acceptance — that is, the June of 1694 ; for in that month, on St. Barnabas' day, that is, on the 11th, Spenser was married. This event Spenser cele- brates in the finest, the most perfect of all his poems, in the most beautiful of all bridal songs — in his Epitftcdamion. He had many a time sung for others ; he now bade the Muses crown their heads with garlands and help him his own love's praises to resound ; — So I unto my selfe alone will sing, The woods shall to me answer, and my echo ring. Then, with the sweetest melody and a refinement and grace incomparable, he singL with a most happy heart of various matters of the marriage day — of his lore's waking, of the merry music of the minstrels, of her coming forth in all the pride of her visible I EDMUND SPENSER. loyeliness, of that ' inward beauty of her lively spright ' which no eyes can see, of her standing before the altar, her sad eyes still fastened on the ground, of the bringing her home, of the rising of the evening star, and the fair face of the moon looking down on his bliss not unfavourably, as he would hope. The Amoretti and ISpithalamion were registered at the Stationers' Hall on the 19th of November fol- lowing the marriage. They were published in 1595, Spenser — as appears from the ' Dedication ' of them to Sir Robert Needham, written by the printer Ponsonby — being still absent from England. Meanwhile the poet had been vexed by other troubles besides those of a slowly requited passion. Mr. Hardiman,* in his Irish Minstrelsy, has published three petitions presented in 1593 to the Lord Chancellor of Ireland by Maurice, Lord Eoche, Viscount Fermoy, two against ' one Edmond Spenser, gentleman,' one against one Joan Ny Callaghan — who is said to act ' by supportation and maintenance of Edmond Spenser, gentleman, a heavy adversary unto your suppliant.' ' Where,' runs the first petition, ' one Edmond Spenser, gentleman, hath lately exhibited suit against your suppliant for three ploughlands, parcels of Shanballymore (your suppliant's inherit- ance) before the Vice-president and Council of Munster, which land hath been here- tofore decreed for your suppliant against the said Spenser and others under whom he conveyed ; and nevertheless for that the said Spenser, being Clerk of the Council in the said province, and did assign his office unto one Nicholas Curteys among other agreements with covenant that during his life he should be free in the said office for his causes, by occasion of which immunity he doth multiply suits against your sup- pliant in the said province upon pretended title of others &c.' The third petition averred that ' Edmond Spenser of Kilcolman, gentleman, hath entered into three ploughlands, parcel of Ballingerath, and disseised your suppliant thereof, and con- tinueth by countenance and greatness the possession thereof, and maketh great waste of the wood of the said land, and converteth a great deal of corn growing thereupon to his proper use, to the damage of the complainant of two hundred pounds sterling. Wheretmto,' continues the document, which is preserved in the Original Rolls Office, ' the said Edmond Spenser appearing in person had several days prefixed unto him peremptorily to answer, which he neglected to do.' Therefore ' after a day of grace given,' on the 12t'h of February, 1694, Lord Eoche was decreed the possession. Perhaps the absence from his lady love referred to in the concluding sonnets was occasioned by this litigation. Perhaps also the ' false forged lyes ' — the malicious reports circulated about him — referred to in Sonnet 85, may have been connected with these appeals against him. It is clear that all his dreams of Faerie did not make him neglectful of his earthly estate. Like Shakspere, like Scott, Spenser did not cease to be a man of the world— we use the phrase in no unkindly sense because he was "■ poet. He was no mere visionary, helpless in the ordinary affairs of life. In the present case it would appear that he was even too keen in looking after his own interests. Professor Craik charitably suggests that his poverty 'rather than rapacity may be supposed to have urged whatever of hardness there was in his pro- ceedings.' It is credible enough that these proceedings made him highly unpopular • Irish Minstrelsy ; or, Bardic Remains of Ireland, by J. Hardiman. London 18.5J, EDMUND SPENSER. with the native inhabitants of the district, and that they were not forgotten when the day of reckoning came. ' His name,' says Mr. Hardiman, on the authority of Trotter's Walks in Ireland,* ' is still remembered in the vicinity of Kilcolman ; but the people entertain no sentiments of respect or aflfectiou for Ms memory.' In the same year with the Amoretti was published Colin Clouts Come Home Again, several additions having been made to the original version. Probably at the close of this year 1595 Spenser a second time crossed to England, accompanied, it may be supposed, by his wife, carrying with him in manuscript the second three books of his Faerie Queene, which, as we have seen, were completed before his marriage, and also a prose work, A View of the Present State of Ireland. Mr. Collier quotes the following entry from the Stationers' Register : — 20 die Janiiarii [159.5]. — Mr. Ponsonby. Entred kc. The Second Part of the Faerie Queene, cent, the 4, 5, and 6 bookes, Tjis man, the one in his llias, the other in Ms Odysseis: then Virgil, whose like intention was to doe in the person of Aeneas : after him Anosto com- prised them both in his Orlando, and l/ttely Tasso dissevered them againe, and formed both parts in two persons, namely that part which they in Philosophy call Ethice, or vertues of a private man, coloured in his Rinaldo ; the other named Politice in his Godfredo. By ensample of which excellente Poets, X labour topourtraict in Arthure, before he was king, the image of a brave knight, perfected in the twelve private fiioraU vertues, as Aristotle hath devised ; the which is the purpose of the.se first tive^ve bookes : which if I finde to he well accepted, 1 may be perhaps encoraged to frame the other part of polUticke vertues in his person, after thai hee came to be king. To some, I know, this 3Iethode will seeme displeasaunt, which had rather have good disci- pline delivered plainly in way of precepts, or sermoned at large, as they use, then thus clowdily enwrapped in Allegoiicall devises. But such, me seeme, should be satisfide with the use of these dayes, seeing all things accounted by their showes, and nothing esteemed of, that is not delightfuU and pleasing to commune sence. For this cause is Xenophon preferred before Plato, for that the one, in the exquisite depth of his judgement, formed a Commune welth, such as it shotdd be ; but the other in the person of Cyrus, and the Persians, fashioned a governement, such as might best be : So much more profitable and gratious is doctrine by ensample, then by rule. So haue I laboured to doe in the person of Arthure: whome I conceive, after his long edu- cation by Timon, to whom he was by Merlin delivered to be brounht up, so soone as he was borne of the Lady Igrayne. to liave scene in a dream or vision the Faery Queen, with whose excellent beauty ravished, he awaking resolved to seehe her out; and so being by Merlin armed, and by Timon throughly instructed, he went to seehe her forth in Faeiye land. In that Faery Queene I meane glory in my generall intentioii, but in my particular J conceive the most excellent and glorious person ofoux soveraine the Queene, and her kingdome in Faery land. And yet, in some places els, I doe otherwise shadow her. For considering she beareth two persons, the one of a most royall Queene or Flmpresse, the other of a most vertuous and beautifull Lady, this latter A LETTER OF THE AUTHORS. pari in some places I doe expresse in JBelphcebCf fashioning her name according to your owne ex- cellent conceipt of Cynthia, {Phoebe and Cynthia being both names of Diana^ So in the person of Prince Arthure I sette forth Tnagnificence in particidar ; which veriue,for that (according to Aristotle and the rest) it is the perfection of all the rest, and conteineth in it them all, therefore in the whole course I mention the deedes of Arthure applyable to iliat verttie^ which I write of in that booke. But of the xii. other vertues, I make xil. other knights the patrones, for the more variety of the history: Of which these three bookes contayn three. The first of the knight of the Reda'osse, in whome I expresse Holynes : The seconde of Sir Guyon, in lohome I sette forth Temperaunce : The third of Britomartis, a Lady Knight, in whome 2 picture Chastity. But, because the beginning of the whole worke seemeth abrupte, and as depending upon other antecedents, it needs that ye know the occasion of these three knights seuerall adventures. For the Methode of a Poet historical is not such, as of an Historiographer. Tor an Historiographer dlscourseth of aff'ayres orderly as they were donne, accounting as well the times as the actions ; but a Poet thnisteth into the middest, even where it most concerneth him, and there recoursing to the thing esf or epaste, and divining of thinges to come, inaketh a pleas- ing Analysis of all. The beginning therefore of my history, if it were to be told by an Historiographer should be the twelfth booke^ which is the last; where I devise that the Faery Queene kept her Annuall feaste xii. dayes; uppon which xii. severall dayes, the occasions of the xii. severall adventures kapned, which, being undertaken by xii. severall knights, are in these xii. books severally liandled and discoursed. The first was this. In the begin- ning of the feast, there presented him selfe a tall clownishe younge man, who falling before the Queene of Faries desired a boone (as the manner then was) which during tlmt feast she might not refuse ; which was that hee might have the at- chievement of any adventure, which during tltat feaste should happen : that being graunted, he rested him on thefoore, unfitte through his I'us- ticity for a better place. Soone after entred a faire Ladye in mourning weedes, riding on a white Asse, with a dwarfe behind her leading a warlike steed, that bore the Armes of a knight, and his speare in the dwarf es liand. Shee, fall- ing before the Queene of Faeries, complayned that her father and mother, an ancient King and Queene, had bene by an huge dragon many years shut up in a brastn Castle, ivho thence suffred them not to ysseiv ; and therefore besought tlie Faery Queene to assygne her some one of her knights to take on him tfiat exployt. Presently that clownish person, upstarting, desired that adventure: whereatthe Queene 7nuch wondering, and the Lady much gainesaying, yet he earnestly importuned his desire. In the enJd the Lady told him, tlmt unlesse that armour which she brought, would serve him {that is, the armour of a Chris- tian man specified by Saint Paid, vi. EphesJ) tliathe coidd vat succeed in that enterprise; which being forthwith put upon him^ with dewe furni- tures thereunto, he seemed the goodliest man in al that company, and was well liked of the Lady. And eftesoones taking on him knighthood, and mounting mi thatstraunge Courser, he went forth with her on that adventure: where beginneth the first booke, viz. A gentle knight was pricking on theplayne. &c. The second day ther came in a Palmer, bear- hig an Infant iviih bloody hands, zvhose Parents he complained to have bene slayn by an Enchaunt- eresse called Acrasia ; and tlierfore craved of the Faery Queene, to appoint him some knight toperforme that adi^enture ; whichbeing assigned to Sir Guyon, he presently went forth with tlmt same Palmer : which is the beginning of the second booke, and the whole subject thereof. Tlie third day there came in a Groome, wlio com- plained before the Faery Queene, that a vile Enchaunter, called Busirane, had in hand a most faire Lady, called Amoretta, whom he kept in viost grievous torment, because she woidd not yield him the pleasure of her body. Whereupon Sir Scudainour, the lover of that Lady, pre- sently toolte on him that adventure. But being vnable to performe it by reason of the hard En- chauntments, after long sorrow, in the end met with Britomartis, wlio succoured him, and res- hewed his lone. But by occasion hereof many other adventures are intermedled; but rather as Accidents then intendments: As the love of Britomart, the over- throw of Marinell, the misery of Florimell, the vertuousnes of Belphcebe, the lasciviousnes of Hellenora, and many the like. TTius much. Sir, I have briefly overronne to direct your binder standing to the wel-head of the History ; that from thence gathering the whole intention of the conceit, ye may as in a handfull gripe al the discourse, which otherwise may hap- pily seeme tedious and confused. So, humbly craving the continuance of your honorable favour towards me, and th* eternall establishment of your happines, I humbly take leave. 23. lanuary 1589, Tours most humbly affectionate, Ed. Spenser. VERSES ADDEESSED TO THE AUTHOE. 4 Vision up07i this conceij^t of the Faery Queene. Me thought I saw the grave where Laura lay, Within that Temple where the vestall flame Was wont to burne ; and passing by that way To see that buried dust of living fame, Whose tumbe fairelove, and fairer vertue kept, All suddeinly I saw the Faery Queene : At whose approch the soule of Petrarke wept. And from thenceforth those graces were not seene ; For they this Queene attended, in whose steed Oblivion laid him downe on Lauras herse. Hereat the hardest stones were seeue to bleed, And grones of buried ghostes the hevens did perse : ^Vhere Homers spright did tremble all for griefe, And curst th' accesse of that celestiall theife. Another of the same. The prayse of meaner wits this worke like profit brings, [sings. As doth the Cuckoes song delight when Philumena If thou hast formed right trae vertues face herein, Vertue her selfe can best discerne to whom they written bin. [divine If thou hast beauty praysd, let her sole lookes Judge if ought therein be amis, and mend it by her eine. If Chastitie want ought, or TemjKraunce her dew, Behold her Princely mind aright, and ^vrite thy Queene anew. Meaue while she shall perceive, how far her vertues sore [of yore : Above the reach of all that live, or such as wrote And thereby will excuse and favour thy good will ; ^yho3e vertue can not be exprest, but by an Angels quill. - Of me no lines are lov'd, nor letters are of price, Of all ^vhich speak our English tongue, but those of thy device. W. R. To the learned Shepeheard, Collyn, I see, by thy new taken taske. Some aacred fury hath enricht thy braynes, That leades thy muse in haughty verse to maske, And loath the layes that longs to lowly swaynes ; That lifts thy notes from Shepheardes unto kinges : So like the lively Larke that mounting singes. Thy lovely Rosolinde seemes now forlorne, And all thy gentle flockes forgotten quight ; Thy chaunged hart now holdes thy pypesin scorne, Those prety pypes that did thy mates delight ; Those trusty mates, that loved thee so well ; i'VVhom thou gav'st mirth, as they gave thee the bcU. Yet, as thou earst with thy sweete roundelayes Didst stirre to glee our laddes in homely bowers ; So moughtst thou now in these refyned layes Delight the daintie eares of higher powers : And so mought they, in their deepe skanning skill, Alow and grace our Collyns flowing quyll. And faire befall that Faenj Qi/pene of thine, In whoso faire eyes love linckt with vertue sittes : Enfusing, by those bewties fyers devjnie. Such high conceites into thy hmnble wittes, As raised hath poore pastors oaten reedes From rustick tunes, to chaunt heroique deedes. So mought thy Redcrosse knight with happy hand Victorious he in that faire Hands right, Which thou dost vayle in Type of Faery land, Elizas blessed field, that Albion hight : [foes, That shieldes her friendes, and warres her mightie Yet still with people, peace, and plentie flowes. But (jolly shepheard) though with pleasing style Thou feast the humour of the Courtly trayne, Let not conceipt thy setled sence beguile, Ne daunted be through envy or disdaine. Subject thy dome to her Empyring spright, [light. i From whence thy Muse, and all the world, takes HOBYNOLL. Fayre Thamis streame, that from Ludds stately towne Runst paying tribute to the Ocean seas. Let all thy Nymphes and Syrens of renowne Be silent, whyle this Bryttane Orpheus playes. Kere thy sweet bankes there lives that sacred crowne, Whose hand strowes Palme and never-dying bayes : Let all at once, with thy soft murmuring sowne. Present her with this worthy Poets prayes ; For he hath taught hye drifts in shepeherdesweedes, And deepe conceites now singes in Faeries deedes. R. S. VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR, Grave Muses, march in triumpli and with prayses Our Goddesse here hath given you leave to land ; And biddes this rare dispenser of your graces Bow downs his brow unto her sacred hand. Deserte findes dew in that most princely doome, In whose sweete brest are all the Muses bredde : So did that great Augustus erst in Roome With leaves of fame adorne his Poets hedde. Faire be the guerdon of your Faery Queene, Even of the fairest that the world hath seene ! H. B. "When stout Achilles heard of Helens rape, And what revenge the States of Greece devisd, Thinking by sleight the fatall warres to scape, In womaiis weedes him selfe he then disgnisde ; But this devise Ulysses soone did spy, And brought him forth the chaunce of warre to try. When Spencer saw the fame was spredd so large, Through Faery land, of their renowned Qneene, Loth that his Muse should take so great a chiirge, As in such haughty matter to be seene, To seeme a shepeheard then he made his choice ; But Sydney heard him sing, and knew his voice. And as Ulysses brought faire Thetis sonne From his retyred life to menage armes, So Speiicer was by Sidney's speaches wonne To blaze her fame, not fearing future harmes ; For well he knew, his Muse would soone be tyred In her high praise, that all the world admired. Yet as Achilles, in those warlike frayes, Did win the palme from all the Grecian Peeres, So Spenser now, to his immortall prayse. Hath wonne the Laurell quite from all his feres. What though his taske exceed a humaine witt, He is excus'd, sith Sidney thought it fltt. W. L. To looke upon a worke of rare devise The which a workman setteth out to view, And not to yield it the deserved prise That unto such a workmanship is dew. Doth either prove the judgement to be naught, Or els doth shew a mind with envy fraught. To labour to commend a peece of worke, Which no man goes about to discommend, Would raise a jealous doubt, that there did Inrke Some secret doubt whereto the prayse did tend ; For when men know the goodnes of the \\'yne, 'Tis needlesse for the hoast to have a sygne. Thus then, to shew my judgement to be such As can disceme of colours blacke and white, As alls to free my minde from envies tuch, That never gives to any man his right, I here pronounce this workmanship is such As that no pen can set it forth too much. And thus I hang a garland at the dore ; Not for to shew the goodness of the ware ; But such hath beene the custome heretofore, And customes very hardly broken are ; And when your tast shall tell you this is trew, Then looke you give your hoast his utmost dew, IGNOTO. VERSES ADDRESSED, BY THE AUTHOR OP THE FAERIE QUEKNE, TO VARIOUS NOBLEMEN, &C. To the Sight honourable Sir Christopher Hatton, Lord high Chmmcelor of England, Those prudent heads, that with theire counsels wise Whylom the piUours of th' earth did sustaine, And' taught ambitious Rome to tyrannise And in the necli of all the world to rayne , Oft from those grave affaires were wont ab- staine, With the sweet Lady Muses for to play ; So Ennius the elder Africane, So Maro oft did Cffisars cares allay, [sway So you, great Lord, that with your counsell The burdeine of this kingdom mightilj^, With like delightes sometimes may eke delay The rugged brow of carefuU Policy , And to these ydle rymes lend litle space. Which for their titles sake may find more grace. To the most honourable and e3:cellent Lord the Earle of Essex. Great Maister of the Horse to her Highnesse, and knight of the Noble order of the Garter, ^-c. Magnificke Lord, whose vertues excellent, i Doe merit a most famous Poets witt | To be thy living praises instrument, j _ Yet doe not sdeigne to let thy name be writt In this base Poeme, for thee far unfitt : | Nought is thy worth disparaged thereby ; ■ But when my Muse, whose fethers, nothing flitt, ! Doe yet but ilagg, and lowly leame to fly, With bolder wing shall dare alofte to sty To the last praises of this Faery Queene ; Then shall it make more famous memory Of thine Heroicke parts, such as they beene : Till then, vouchsafe thy noble countenaunce To these first labours needed furtheraunce. To the Bight Honourable the Earle of Oxenf ford. Lord high Ohamherlaync of Eng. land, ^c. Receive, most Noble Lord, in gentle gree, The unripe fruit of an unready wit; Which by thy countenaunce doth crave to bee Defended from foule Envies poisnous bit. Which so to doe may thee right well befit, Sith th' antique glory of thine auncestry Under a shady vele is therein writ. And eke thine owne long living memory. Succeeding them in true nobility : And also for the love which thou doest beare To th' Heliconian ymps, and they to thee ; They unto thee, and thou to them, most deare : Deare as thou art unto thy selfe, so love That loves and honours thee, as doth behove. To the right honourable the Earle of North- umberland. The sacred Muses have made alwaies clame To be the Nourses of nobility. And Registres of everlasting fame, To all that armes professe and chevalry. , Then, by like right the noble Progeny, Which them succeed in fame and worth, are tyde T' embrace the service of sweete Poetrj^,- By whose endevours they are glorifide ; And eke from all, of whom it is envide. To patronize the authour of their praise. Which gives them life, that els would soone have dide, And crownes their ashes with immortall bales. To thee, therefore, right noble Lord, I send This present of my paines, it to defend. VERSES ADDRMSSED £Y THE AUTHOR To the right Honourable the Earle of Ormond and Ossory. Receive, most noble Lord, a simple taste Of the wilde fruit which salvage soyl hath bred ; [waste, Which, being through long wars left almost With brutish barbarisme is overspredd : And, in so faire a land as may be redd. Not one Parnassus nor one Helicone, Left for sweete Muses to be harboured, But where thy selfe hast thy brave man- sione : There, in deede, dwel faire Graces many one, ' And gentle Nymphes, delights of learned And in thy person, without paragone, [wits; All goodly bountie and true honour sits. Such, tiierefore, as that wasted soyl doth yield, Receive, dear Lord, in worth, the fruit of bar- ren field. To the right honourable the Lord Ch. Howard, Lord high Admiral of England, Icnight qf\ the. noble order of the Garter, and one of her Majesties privie Counsel, Sfc. And ye, brave Lord, whose goodly personage And noble deeds, each other garnishing, fake 5'ou ensample to the present age Of th' old Heroes, whose famous ofspring The antique Poets wont so much to sing; In this same Pageaunt have a worthy place, Sith those huge castles of Castilian King, That vainly threatned kingdomes to displace. Like flying doves ye did before you chace ; And that proud people, woxen insolent Through many victories, didst first deface : Thy praises everlasting monument Is in "this verse engraven semblably. That it may live to all posterity. To the most renowmed and valiant Lord, the Lord Grey of Wilton, knight of the Noble order of the Garter, ^c. Most Noble Lord, the pillor of my hfe, And Patrone of my Muses pupillage ; Through whose large bountie, poured on me In the first season of my feeble age, [rife I now doe live, bound yours by vassalage ; Sith nothing ever may redeeme, nor reave Out of your endlesse debt, so sure a gage, Vouchsafe in worth this small guift to re- ceave. Which in your noble hands for pledge I leave Of all the rest that I am tyde t' account : Rude rj'mes, the which a rustick Muse did weave In savadge soyle, far from Parnasso Mount, And roughly wrought in an unlearned Loome: The which vouchsafe, dear Lord, your favorable doome. To the right noble and valorous knight, Sir Walter Ealeigh, Lord Wardeiti ofthi Stanneryes, and licftenaunt of Cornewaile. To thee, that art the sommers Nightingale, Thj' soveraine Goddesses most deare delight. Why doe I send this rusticke Madrigale, That may thy tunefull eare unseason quite? Thou onely fit this Argument to write, In whose high thoughts Pleasure hath built her bowre, And dainty love learnd sweetly to endite. My rimes I know unsavory and sowre. To last the streames that, like a golden showre, Flow from thy fruitfull head, of thy love's praise ; Fitter, perhaps, to thonder Martiall stowre, When so thee list thy lofty Muse to raise : Yet, till that thou thy Poeme wilt make knowne. Let thy faire Cinthias praises be thus rudely showne. To the right honourable the Lord Burleigh, Lord high Threasurer of England. To you, right noble Lord, whose carefuU brcst To menage of most grave affaires is bent ; And on whose mightie shoulders most doth rest Theburdeinof thiskingdomesgovernement, As the wide compasse of the firmament On Atlas mighty shoulders is upstayd, Unfitly I these ydle rimes present, The labor of lost time, and wit unstayd ; Yet if their deeper sence be inly wayd, And the dim vele, with which from com- mune vew Their fairer parts are hid, aside be layd. Perhaps not vaine they may appeare to you. Such as they be, vouchsafe them to receave. And wipe their faul ts out of your censure grave. E. S. To the right honourable the Earle of Cum- Redoubted Lord, in whose corageous mind The flowre of chevalry, now bloosming faire, Doth promise fruite worthy the noble kind Which of their praises have left you the haire; To you this humble present I prepare. For love of vertue and of Martiall praise ; To which though nobly ye inclined are. As goodlie well ye shew'd in late assaiee, TO SEVERAL MOB LE MEM, ETC. Yet brave ensample of long passed dales, In which trew honor yee may fashioned see, To like desire of honor may ye raise. And till your mind with magnanimitee. Receive it. Lord, therefore, as it was ment, for honor of your name and high descent. E. S. To the right honourable the Lord of Huns- don, high Chamberlaine to her Majesty. Renowmed Lord, that, for your worthinesse And noble deeds, have your deserved place High in the favour of that Emperesse, The worlds sole glory and her sexes grace : Here eke of right have you a worthie place, Both for your neames to that Faerie Queene And for your owne high merit in like cace : Of which, apparaunt proofe was to be scene. When that tumultuous rage and fearfuU deene Of Northerne rebels ye did pacify. And their disloiall pnwre defaced clene, The record of enduring memory. Live, Lord, for ever in this lasting verse, That all posteritie thy honor may reherse. E. o. To the right hononraUe the Lord of Biick- hurst, one of her Majesties privie Counsell. In vain I thinke, right honourable Lord, ^ By this rude rime to memorize thy name. Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne re- cord In golden verse, worthy immortal fame : Thou much more fit (were leasure to the same) Thy gracious Soverains praises to compile, And her imperiall Majestic to frame In loftie numbers and heroicke stile. But, silh thou maist not so, give leave awhile To baser wit his power therein to spend, Whose grosse defaults thy daintie pen may And unadvised oversights amend. f ttle, But evermore vouchsafe it to maintaine Against vile Zoilns backbitings vaine. To the right honourable Sir Fr. Walsingham, knight, principall Secretary to her Ma- jesty, and one of her honourable privy Counsell. ThafMantuane Poetes incompared spirit. Whose girland now is set in highest place. Had not Mecsenas, for his worthy merit, It first advaunst to great Augustus grace, Might long perhaps have lien in silence bace, Ne bene so much admir'd of later age. [trace, Thislowlv Muse, that learns like steps to Fhes for like aide unto your Patronage, That are the great Mecaenas of this age. As wel to a] that civil artes professe, As those that are inspir'd with Martial rage, And craves protection of her feeblenesse : Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her rayse In bigger tunes to sound your living prayse. E. S. To the right noble Lord and most valiannt Oaptaine, Sir John Norris, knight. Lord president of Mounstar. Who ever gave more honourable prize Tothesweet Muse then did tlieMartiall crew, That their brave deeds she might immortalize In her shril tromp, and sound their praises dew V Who then ought more to favour her then you, Moste noble Lord, the honor of this age. And Precedent of all that armes ensue V Whose warlike prowesse and manly courage, Tempred with reason and advizement sage, Hath flld sad Belgickewith victorious spoile; In Fraunce and Ireland left a famous gage •, And lately shakt the Lusitanian soile. \ f^ame, Sith, then, each ivhere thou liast dispredd thy Love him that hath eternized }our name. E. S. To ike right honourable and most vertuous Lady the Countesse of Fenbroke. Remembraunce of that most Heroicke spirit. The hevens pride, the glory of our daies, Which now triumpheth, through immortall merit Of his brave vertues, crownd with lasting Of hevenlie blis and everlasting praies; [ baies Who first my Muse did lift out of the flore. To sing his sweet delights in lowlie laies ; Bids me, most noble Lady, to adore His goodly image, living evermore In the di^^ne resemblaunce of your face; Which ivith your vertue.5 ye embellish more, And native beauty deck with hevenlie grace : For bis, and for your owne especial sake, Vouchsafe from him this token in good worth to take. E. S. To the most vertuous and beautifidl Lady, the Lady Carew. Xe may 1, without blot of endlesse blame, You, fairest Lady, leave out of this place ; But with remembraunce of your gracious name, [grace Wherewith that courtly garlond most ye VERSES ADDRESSED BY THE AUTHOR. And deck the world, adorne these verses base. Not that these few lines can in them com- prise Those glorious ornaments of hevenly grace, Wherewith ye triumph over feeble ej'es, And in subdued harts do tyranyse ; For thereunto doth need a golden quiU, And silver leaves, them rightly to devise; But to make humble present of good will : Which, whenas timely meanesitpurchase may. In ampler wise it seli'e will forth displav E. S. To all the gratious and beautiftdl Ladies in the Court. The Chian Peincter, when he was requirde To pourtraict Veuus in her perfect hew( To make his worke more absolute ,desird Of all the fairest Maides to have the vew. Much more me needs, to draw the semblanl trew Of beauties Queene, the worlds sole wonder- ment, To sharpe my sence with sundry beauties vew, And steale from each some part of ornament. If all the world to seeke I overwent, A fairer crew yet no where could I see Then that brave court doth to mine eie present, [to bee. That the worlds pride seemes gathered there Of each a part I stole by cunning thefte: Forgive it me, faire Dames, sith lesse ye have not lefte. E. S THE FIRST BOOK THE FAEEIE QUEENE CONTAYNING THE LEGEND OF THE KNIGHT OF TBK KED CKOSSE, OR OF HOLINES8E. Lo ! I, the man whose Muse whylome did maske, As time her taught, in lowly Shephards weeds, Am now enforst, a farre untitter taske. For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds. And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds ; Whose praises having slept in silence long, Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse arecds To blazon broade emongst her learned throng : Fierce warres and faithful loves shall moralize my song. II Helpe then, O holy virgin ! chiefe of nyne. Thy weaker Novice to performe thy will ; Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne The antique relies, which there lye hidden still, Of Faerie knights, and fajTest Tanaquill, Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill, That I must rue his undeserved wrong : 0, helpe thou mv weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong ! And thou, most dreaded inipe of highest Jove, Faire Venus Sonne, that with thy cruell dart At that good knight so cunningly didst rove. That glorious fire it kindled in his hart; Lay now thy deadly Heben bowe apart, And with thy mother mylde come to mine ayde; [Mart, Come, both ; and with you bring triumphant In loves and gentle jollities arraid, [allayd. After his murdrous apoyles and blouilie rage IV And with them eke, Goddesse heavenly Mirrour of grace and Majestic divine, [bright! Great Ladie of the greatest Isle, whose light Like Phoebus iampe throughout the world doth shine, Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne. And raise my thoughtes, too humble and too vile, To thinke of that true glorious type of tliine. The argument of mine afflicted stile : The which to heare vouchsafe, dearest dread, a-while ! CANTO I. Tlie Patrone of true Holinesse Foule Errour doth defeate : Hypocrisie, him to entrappe, Doth to his home entreate. A GENTLE Knight was pricking on the plaine, Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde. Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did re- maine, The cruell markes of many' a bloody fielde ; Yet armes till that time did he never wield. His angry steede did chide his foming bitt, As much disdayning to the curbe to yield : Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt, As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt. 12 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. And on his brest a bloodie Crosse he bore, The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he And dead, as living, ever him ador'd : [wore, Upon his shield the like was also scor'd, For soveraine hope which in his helpe he had. Right faithfull true he was in deede and word But of his cheere did seeme too aolemne sad; Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad. Upon a great adventure he was bond. That greatest Gloriana to him gave, (That greatest Glorious Queene of Faery lond) To winne him worshippe, and her grace to have, Which of all earthly thinges he most did crave : And ever as he rode his hart did earne To prove his puissance in battell brave Upon his foe, and his new force to learne, Upon his foe, a Dragon horrible and steame. A lovely Ladie rode him faire beside, Upon a lowly Asse more white then snow. Vet she much whiter; but the same did hide Under a vele, that wimpled was full low ; And over all a blacke stole shee did throw : As one that inly mournd, so was she sad. And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow ; Seemed in heart some hidden care she had, And bv her, in a line, a milkewhite lambe she "lad. V So pure and innocent, as that same lambe, She was in life and every vertuous lore ; And by descent from Royall lynage came Of ancient Kinges and Queenes, that had of yore Their scepters stretcht from East to Westerne shore. And all the world in their subjection held ; Till that infernall feend with foule uprore Forwasted all their land, and them expeld ; Whom to avenge she had this Knight from far compeld. VI Behind her farre away a Dwarfe did lag. That lasie seemd, in being ever last, Or wearied with bearing of her bag Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past, The day with cloudes was euddeine overcast. And angry Jove an hideous storme of raine Did poure into his Lemans lap so fast. That everie wight to shrowd it did constrain ; And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves were fain. Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand, A shadie grove not farr away they spide. That promist ayde the tempest to withstand ; Whose loftie trees, yclad with sommers pride. Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide. Not perceable with power of any starr : And all within were pathes and" alleles wide. With footing wome, and leading inward farr. I'aire harbour that them seems, so in they entred ar. VIII And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led. Joying to heare the birdes sweete harmony. Which, therein shrouded from the tempestdred, Seemd in their song to scome the cruell sky. Much can they praise the trees so straight and The sayling Pine ; the Cedar proud and tall : The vine-propp Elme ; the Poplar never dry ; The builder Oake, sole king of forrests all ; The Aspine good for staves ; the Cypresse funerall ; IX The Laurell, meed of mightie Conquerours And Poets sage ; the Firre that weepeth still ; The Willow, wome of forlorne Paramours; The Eugh, obedient to the benders will ; Tlie Birch for shaftes ; the Sallow for the mill ; The Mirrhesweete-bleedingin the bitter wound; The warlike Beech ; the Ash for nothing ill ; The fruitfull Olive ; and the Platane round ; The carver Holme ; the Maple seeldom inward soimd. X Led with delight, they thus beguile the way, Untill the blustring storme is overblowiie ; When, weening to returne whence they did stray, [showne, They cannot finde that path, which first was But wander too and fro in waies unknowne, Furthest from end then, when they^ neerest weene, [owne; That makes them doubt their .wits be not their So many pathes, so many turnings seene. That which of them to "take in diverse doubt they been. XI At last resolving forward still to fare, Till that some end they finde, or in or out, That path they take that beaten seemd most And like to lead the labyrinth about; [bare. Which when by tract they hunted had through- out, At length it brought them to a hoUowe cave Amid the thickest woods. The Champion stout CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 13 Eftsoones dismounted from his courser brave. And to the Dwarfe a while his needlesse spere he gave. XII ' Be well aware,' quoth then that Ladie milde, ' Least snddaine mischiefe ye too rash provoke : The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde, Breedes dreadfuU doubts. Oft tire is without smoke, And perill without show : therefore your stroke. Sir Knight, with-hold, till further tryall made.' ' Ah Ladie,' (sayd he) ' shame were to revoke The forward footing for an hidden shade ; Tertue gives her selfe light through darknesse for to wade.' XIII 'Yea but' (quoth she) 'the perill of this place I better wot then you : though nowe too late To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace, Yetwisedome wames, whilestfootisin thegate. To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate. This is the wandring wood, this Errours den, A monster vile, whom God and man does hate : Therefore I read beware.' ' Fly, fly!' (quoth then The fearefull Dwarfe) ' this is no place for living But, full of fire and greedy hardiment. The youthfuU Knight could not for ought be But forth unto the darksom hole he went,[ staide; And looked in : his glistring armor made A litle glooming light, much like a shade ; By which he saw the ugly monster plaine, Halfe like a serpent horriblj' displaide. But th'other 'nalfe did womans shape retaine. Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine. And, as she lay upon the durtie ground. Her huge long taile her den all overspred. Yet was in knots and many boughtes upwouiid, Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed. Sucking upon her poisnous dugs ; each one Of sundrie shapes, yet all iU-favored : Scone as that uncouth light upon them shone, Into hermouth they crept, and suddain all were gone. xvi Their dam upstart out of her den effraide. And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile About her cursed head ; whose folds displaid Were stretcht now forth at length without en- traile. She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle. Armed to point, sought backe to tume againe ; For light she hated as the deadly bale. Ay wont in desert darknea to remaine, Where plain none might her see, nor she see any plaine. XVII Which when the valiant Elfe perceiv'd, he Icpt As Lyon fierce upon the flying pray, And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept From turning backe, and forced her te stay : Therewith enrag'd she loudly gan to brayj And turning fierce her speckled taile advaunat, Threatning her angrie sting, him to dismay; Who, nought aghast, his mightie hand en- haunst : [ der glaunst. The stroke down from her head unto her shoul- xvni Much daunted with that dint her sence was dazd; Yet kindling rage her selfe she gathered round, And all attonce her beastly bodie raizd With doubled forces high above the ground : Tho, wrapping up lier wrethed Sterne arownd, Lept fierce upon his shield, and her huge traine All suddenly about his body wound. That hand or foot to stirr he strove in vaine. God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours end- lesse traine ! XIX His Lady, sad to see his sore constraint, Cride out, 'Now, now, Sir knight, shew what ye bee ; Add faith unto your force, and be not faint ; Strangle her, els she sure will strangle thee." That when he heard, in great perplexitie. His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine ; And, knitting all his force, got one hand free, Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine, [constraine. That soone to loose her wicked bands did her There^vith she spewd out of her filthie maw A floud of poyson horrible and blacke. Full of great lumps of flesh and gobbets raw. Which stunck so vildly, that it forst him slacke [backe. His grasping hold, and from her turne him Her vomit full of bookes and papers was. With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke. And creeping sought way in the weedy gras : Her filthie parbreake all the place defiled has. As when old father Nilus gins to swell With timely pride above the Aegyptian vale His fattie waves doe fertile slime outwell, And overflow each plaine and Jowly dale : 14 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. But, when his later spring gins to avale, Huge heapes of mudd he leaves, wherin there breed Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male And partly femall, of his fruitful seed ; Such ugly monstrous shapes elswher may no man reed. The same so sore annoyed has the knight, That, ivelnigh choked with the deadly stinke, His forces faile, ne can no lenger fight : Whose corage when the feend perceivd to shrinke, She poured forth out of her hellish sinke Her fruitfuU cursed 8pa\\'ne of serpents small, Deformed monsters, fowle, andblacke as inke. Which swarming all about his legs did crall, And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all. As gentle shephcard in sweete eventide. When ruddy Phebus gins to welke in west, High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide, Markes which doe bj'te their hasty supper best ; A cloud of cumbrous gnattes doe him molest, All striving to infixe their feeble stinges, That from their noyance he no where can rest ; But with his clownish hand^ their tender wings He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their mur- murings. XXIV Thus ill bestedd, and fearefuU more of shame Then of the certeine perill he stood in^ Halfe furious unto his foe he came, Eesolvd in minde all suddenly to win, Or soone to lose, before he once would lin ; And stroke at her with more then manly force, That from her body, full of fllthie sin. He raft her hateful! heade without remorse A streame of cole-black blood forth gushed from her corse. Her scattered brood, soone as their Parent deare They saw so rudely falling to the ground, Groning full deadly, all with troublous feare Gathred themselves about her body round, Weening their wonted entrance to have found At her wide mouth ; but being there withstood, They flocked all about her bleeding wound, A,nd sucked up their dying mothers bloud, Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their good. That detestable sight him much amazde. To see th' unkindly Impes, of heaven accurst, Devoure their dam ; on whom while so he gazd, Having all satisfide their bloudy thurst. Their bellies swolne he saw with fulnesse burst, And bowels gushing forth : well worthy end Of such as drunke her life the which them nurst ! Now needeth him no lenger labour spend, His foes have slaine themselves, with whom he should contend. His Lady, seeing all that chauust from farrc, Approcht in hast to greet his victorie ; [starre, And saide, ' Faire knight, borne under happie Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye. Well worthie be you of that Armory, Wherein ye have great glory wonne this day, And proov'd your strength on a strong enimie. Your first adventure : many such I pray, And henceforth ever wish that like succeed it may ! ' XXVIK Then mounted he upon his Steede againe, And with the Lady backward sought to wend. That path he kept which beaten was most Ne ever would to any byway bend, [plaine. But still did follow one unto the end, Thewhichat last out of the wood them brought. So forward on his way (with God to frend) He passed forth, and new adventure sought : Long way he travelled before lie heard of ought, XXIX At length they chaunst to meet upon the way An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad. His feete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray, And by his belt his booke he hanging had : Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad, And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent, Simple in shew, and voide of malice bad ; And all the way he prayed as he went. And often knockt his brest, as one that did repent. XXX He faire the knight saluted, louting low. Who faire him quited, as that courteous was ; And after asked him, if he did know Of straunge adventures, which abroad did pas. ' Ah ! my dear sonne,' (quoth he) ' how should, alas ! Silly old man, that lives in hidden cell, Bidding his beades all day for his trespas, Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell ? With holy father sits not with such thinges to mell. Canto i.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. '5 ' But if of daunger, which hereby doth dwell, And homebredd evil ye desiire to heare, Of a straunge man I can you tidings tell, Thatwasteth all this countrie, farre and neare.' ' Of such,' (saide he,) ' I chiefly doe inquere, And shall thee well rewarde to shew the place, In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare ; For to all knighthood it is foule disgrace. That such a cursed creature lives so long a space.' XXXII ' Far hence' (quoth he) ' in wastfull wilder- nesse His dwelling is, by which no living wight May ever passe, but thorough i^reat distresse.' 'Now,' (saide the Ladie,) ' draweth toward night. And well I wote, that of your later fight Ye all forwearied be ; for what so strong, But, wanting rest, wiU also want of might V The Sunne, that measures heaven all day long, At night doth baite his steedes the Ocean waves emong. 'Then with the Sunne take, Sir, your timely rest, And with new day new worke at once begin : Untroubled night, they saj', gives coimsell best.' 'Right well, Sir knight, ye have advised bin,' Quoth then that aged man : ' the way to ivin Is wisely to advise ; now day is spent : Therefore with me ye may take up your In For this same night.' The knight was well content ; [went. So with that godly father to his home they A litle lowly Hermitage it was, Do^^^le in a dale, hard by a forests side, Far from resort of people that did pas in traveiU to and froe : a litle wyde There was an holy chappell edifyde. Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say His holy thinges each morne and eventyde : Thereby a christall streame did gently play. Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth alway. XXXV Arrived there, the litle house they fill, Ne looke for entertainement where none was; Uest is their fea.st, and all thinges at their will : The noblest mind the best contentment has. With faire discourse the evening so they pas ; For that olde man of pleasing wordes had storei And well could file his tongue as smooth as glas; He told of Saintes and Popes, and evermore He strowd an Ave-Mary after and before. The drouping night thus creepeth on them fast; And the sad humor loading their eyeliddes. As messenger of Morpheus, on them cast Sweet slombring deaw, the which to sleep them biddes. Unto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes : Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes. He to his studie goes ; and there amiddes His magick bookes, and artes of sundrie kindes. He seekes out mighty charmes to trouble sleepy minds. Then choosing out few words most horrible, (Let none them read) thereof did verses frame ; With which, and other spelles like terrible, He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly Dame ; And cursed heven ; and spake reprochful sliame Of highest God, the Lord of life and light : A bold bad man, that dar'd to call by name Great Gorgon, prince of darknes and dead night ; [ flight. At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to And forth he cald out of deepe darknes dredd Legions of Sprights, the which, like litle flyes Fluttring about his ever-damned hedd, Awaite whereto their service he applyes, To aide his friendes, or fray his enimies. Of those he chose out two, the falsest twoo, And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes : The one of them he gave a message too, [doo. The other by him selfe staide, other worke to He, making speedy way through spersed ayre. And through the world of waters wide and deepe. To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire. Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe, And low, where dawning day doth never peepe, His dwelling is ; there Tethys his wet bed Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe In silver deaw his ever-drouping lied. Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth spred. I nr. j