The Faerie Queene · Book IV · Canto 4 2 (1/2)

Firebrand of hell, first tynd in Phlegeton

By thousand furies, and from thence out throwen

Into this world to worke confusion,

And set it all on fire by force unknowen,

Is wicked discord; whose small sparkes once blowen

None but a God or godlike man can slake;

Such as was Orpheus, that, when strife was growen

Amongst those famous ympes of Greece, did take

His silver Harpe in hand and shortly friends them make:

Or such as that celestiall Psalmist was,

That, when the wicked feend his Lord tormented,

With heavenly notes, that did all other pas

The outrage of his furious fit relented.

Such Musicke is wise words, with time concented,

To moderate stiffe mindes disposd to strive:

Such as that prudent Romane well invented,

What time his people into partes did rive,

Them reconcyld againe, and to their homes did drive.

Such us’d wise Glaucè to that wrathfull knight,

To calme the tempest of his troubled thought:

Yet Blandamour with termes of foule despight,

And Paridell her scornd, and set at nought,

As old and crooked and not good for ought.

Both they unwise, and warelesse of the evill

That by themselves unto themselves is wrought

Through that false witch, and that foule aged drevill;

The one a feend, the other an incarnate devill.

With whom as they thus rode accompanide,

They were encountred of a lustie Knight

That had a goodly Ladie by his side,

To whom he made great dalliance and delight:

It was to weete the bold Sir Ferraugh hight,

He that from Braggadocchio whilome reft

The snowy Florimell, whose beautie bright

Made him seeme happie for so glorious theft;

Yet was it in due triall but a wandring weft.

Which when as Blandamour, whose fancie light

Was alwaies flitting as the wavering wind

After each beautie that appeard in sight,

Beheld, eftsoones it prickt his wanton mind

With sting of lust that reasons eye did blind,

That to Sir Paridell these words he sent:

“Sir knight, why ride ye dumpish thus behind,

Since so good fortune doth to you present

So fayre a spoyle, to make you joyous meriment?”

But Paridell, that had too late a tryall

Of the bad issue of his counsell vaine,

List not to hearke, but made this faire denyall:

“Last turne was mine, well proved to my paine;

This now be yours; God send you better gaine!”

Whose scoffed words he taking halfe in scorne,

Fiercely forth prickt his steed as in disdaine

Against that Knight, ere he him well could torne;

By meanes whereof he hath him lightly overborne.

Who, with the sudden stroke astonisht sore,

Upon the ground awhile in slomber lay;

The whiles his love away the other bore,

And, shewing her, did Paridell upbray;

“Lo! sluggish Knight, the victors happie pray!

So fortune friends the bold:” whom Paridell

Seeing so faire indeede, as he did say,

His hart with secret envie gan to swell,

And inly grudge at him that he had sped so well.

Nathlesse proud man himselfe the other deemed,

Having so peerelesse paragon ygot:

For sure the fayrest Florimell him seemed

To him was fallen for his happie lot,

Whose like alive on earth he weened not:

Therefore he her did court, did serve, did wooe,

With humblest suit that he imagine mot,

And all things did devise, and all things dooe,

That might her love prepare, and liking win theretoo.

She, in regard thereof, him recompenst

With golden words and goodly countenance,

And such fond favours sparingly dispenst:

Sometimes him blessing with a light eye-glance,

And coy lookes tempring with loose dalliance;

Sometimes estranging him in sterner wise;

That having cast him in a foolish trance,

He seemed brought to bed in Paradise,

And prov’d himselfe most foole in what he seem’d most wise.

So great a mistresse of her art she was,

And perfectly practiz’d in womans craft,

That though therein himselfe he thought to pas,

And by his false allurements wylie draft

Had thousand women of their love beraft,

Yet now he was surpriz’d: for that false spright,

Which that same witch had in this forme engraft,

Was so expert in every subtile slight,

That it could overreach the wisest earthly wight.

Yet he to her did dayly service more,

And dayly more deceived was thereby;

Yet Paridell him envied therefore,

As seeming plast in sole felicity:

So blind is lust false colours to descry.

But Atè soone discovering his desire,

And finding now fit opportunity

To stirre up strife twixt love and spight and ire,

Did privily put coles unto his secret fire.

By sundry meanes thereto she prickt him forth;

Now with remembrance of those spightfull speaches,

Now with opinion or his owne more worth,

Now with recounting of like former breaches

Made in their friendship, as that Hag him teaches:

And ever when his passion is allayd,

She it revives, and new occasion reaches;

That on a time, as they together way’d,

He made him open chalenge, and thus boldly sayd;

“Too boastfull Blandamoure! too long I beare

The open wrongs thou doest me day by day:

Well know’st thou, when we friendship first did sweare,

The covenant was, that every spoyle or pray

Should equally be shard betwixt us tway.

Where is my part then of this Ladie bright,

Whom to thy selfe thou takest quite away?

Render therefore therein to me my right,

Or answere for thy wrong as shall fall out in fight.”

Exceeding wroth thereat was Blandamour,

And gan this bitter answere to him make:

“Too foolish Paridell! that fayrest floure

Wouldst gather faine, and yet no paines wouldst take:

But not so easie will I her forsake;

This hand her wonne, this hand shall her defend.”

With that they gan their shivering speares to shake,

And deadly points at eithers breast to bend,

Forgetfull each to have bene ever others frend.

Their firie steedes with so untamed forse

Did beare them both to fell avenges end,

That both their speares with pitilesse remorse

Through shield and mayle and haberjeon did wend,

And in their flesh a griesly passage rend,

That with the furie of their owne affret

Each other horse and man to ground did send;

Where, lying still awhile, both did forget

The perilous present stownd in which their lives were set.

As when two warlike Brigandines at sea,

With murdrous weapons arm’d to cruell fight,

Do meete together on the watry lea,

They stemme ech other with so fell despight,

That with the shocke of their owne heedlesse might

Their wooden ribs are shaken nigh asonder.

They which from shore behold the dreadfull sight

Of flashing fire, and heare the ordenance thonder,

Do greatly stand amaz’d at such unwonted wonder.

At length they both upstarted in amaze,

As men awaked rashly out of dreme,

And round about themselves awhile did gaze;

Till seeing her, that Florimell did seme,

In doubt to whom she victorie should deeme,

Therewith their dulled sprights they edgd anew,

And, drawing both their swords, with rage extreme,

Like two mad mastiffes, each on other flew,

And shields did share, and mailes did rash, and helmes did hew.

So furiously each other did assayle,

As if their soules they would attonce have rent

Out of their brests, that streames of bloud did rayle

Adowne, as if their springs of life were spent;

That all the ground with purple bloud was sprent,

And all their armours staynd with bloudie gore;

Yet scarcely once to breath would they relent,

So mortall was their malice, and so sore

Become, of fayned friendship which they vow’d afore.

And that which is for Ladies most besitting,

To stint all strife and foster friendly peace,

Was from those Dames so farre and so unfitting,

As that, instead of praying them surcease,

They did much more their cruelty encrease;

Bidding them fight for honour of their love,

And rather die then Ladies cause release:

With which vaine termes so much they did them move,

That both resolv’d the last extremities to prove.

There they, I weene, would fight untill this day,

Had not a Squire, even he the Squire of Dames,

By great adventure travelled that way;

Who seeing both bent to so bloudy games,

And both of old well knowing by their names,

Drew nigh, to weete the cause of their debate:

And first laide on those Ladies thousand blames,

That did not seeke t’appease their deadly hate,

But gazed on their harmes, not pittying their estate.

And then those Knights he humbly did beseech

To stay their hands, till he awhile had spoken;

Who lookt a little up at that his speech,

Yet would not let their battell so be broken,

Both greedie fiers on other to be wroken:

Yet he to them so earnestly did call,

And them conjur’d by some well knowen token,

That they at last their wrothfull hands let fall,

Content to heare him speake, and glad to rest withall.

First he desir’d their cause of strife to see:

They said, it was for love of Florimell.

“Ah gentle Knights!” (quoth he) “how may that bee,

And she so farre astray, as none can tell?”

“Fond Squire,” full angry then sayd Paridell,

“Seest not the Ladie there before thy face?”

He looked backe, and, her avizing well,

Weend, as he said, by that her outward grace

That fayrest Florimell was present there in place.

Glad man was he to see that joyous sight,

For none alive but joy’d in Florimell,

And lowly to her lowting thus behight:

“Fayrest of faire, that fairenesse doest excell,

This happie day I have to greete you well,

In which you safe I see, whom thousand late

Misdoubted lost through mischiefe that befell.

Long may you live in health and happie state!”

She litle answer’d him, but lightly did aggrate.

Then, turning to those Knights, he gan anew:

“And you, Sir Blandamour, and Paridell,

That for this Ladie, present in your vew,

Have rays’d this cruell warre and outrage fell,

Certes, me seemes, bene not advised well;

But rather ought in friendship for her sake

To joyne your force, their forces to repell

That seeke perforce her from you both to take,

And of your gotten spoyle their owne triumph to make.”

Thereat Sir Blandamour, with countenance sterne

All full of wrath, thus fiercely him bespake:

“Aread, thou Squire, that I the man may learne,

That dare fro me thinke Florimell to take!”

“Not one,” (quoth he) “but many doe partake

Herein; as thus: It lately so befell,

That Satyran a girdle did uptake

Well knowne to appertaine to Florimell,

Which for her sake he wore, as him beseemed well.

“But, when as she her selfe was lost and gone,

Full many knights, that loved her like deare,

Thereat did greatly grudge, that he alone

That lost faire Ladies ornament should weare,

And gan therefore close spight to him to beare;

Which he to shun, and stop vile envies sting,

Hath lately caus’d to be proclaim’d each where

A solemne feast, with publike turneying,

To which all knights with them their Ladies are to bring:

“And of them all she, that is fayrest found,

Shall have that golden girdle for reward;

And of those Knights, who is most stout on ground,

Shall to that fairest Ladie be prefard.

Since therefore she her selfe is now your ward,

To you that ornament of hers pertaines

Against all those that chalenge it to gard

And save her honour with your ventrous paines:

That shall you win more glory than ye here find gaines.”

When they the reason of his words had hard,

They gan abate the rancour of their rage,

And with their honours and their loves regard

The furious flames of malice to asswage.

Tho each to other did his faith engage,

Like faithfull friends thenceforth to joyne in one

With all their force, and battell strong to wage

Gainst all those knights, as their professed fone,

That chaleng’d ought in Florimell, save they alone.

So, well accorded, forth they rode together

In friendly sort that lasted but a while;

And of all old dislikes they made faire weather;

Yet all was forg’d and spred with golden foyle,

That under it hidde hate and hollow guyle.

Ne certes can that friendship long endure,

However gay and goodly be the style,

That doth ill cause or evill end enure;

For vertue is the band that bindeth harts most sure.

Thus as they marched all in close disguise

Of fayned love, they chaunst to overtake

Two knights that lincked rode in lovely wise,

As if they secret counsels did partake;

And each not farre behinde him had his make,

To weete, two Ladies of most goodly hew,

That twixt themselves did gentle purpose make,

Unmindfull both of that discordfull crew,

The which with speedie pace did after them pursew.

Who, as they now approched nigh at hand,

Deeming them doughtie, as they did appeare,

They sent that Squire afore, to understand

What mote they be: who, viewing them more neare,

Returned readie newes, that those same weare

Two of the prowest Knights in Faery lond,

And those two Ladies their two lovers deare;

Couragious Cambell, and stout Triamond,

With Canacee and Cambine linckt in lovely bond.

Whylome, as antique stories tellen us,

Those two were foes the fellonest on ground,

And battell made the dreddest daungerous

That ever shrilling trumpet did resound;

Though now their acts be no where to be found,

As that renowmed Poet them compyled

With warlike numbers and Heroicke sound,

Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,

On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.

But wicked Time that all good thoughts doth waste,

And workes of noblest wits to nought outweare,

That famous moniment hath quite defaste,

And robd the world of threasure endlesse deare,

The which mote have enriched all us heare.

O cursed Eld! the cankerworme of writs,

How may these rimes, so rude as doth appeare,

Hope to endure, sith workes of heavenly wits

Are quite devourd, and brought to nought by little bits?

Then pardon, O most sacred happie spirit!

That I thy labours lost may thus revive,

And steale from thee the meede of thy due merit,

That none durst ever whilest thou wast alive,

And being dead in vaine yet many strive:

Ne dare I like; but, through infusion sweete

Of thine owne spirit which doth in me survive,

I follow here the footing of thy feete,

That with thy meaning so I may the rather meete.

Cambelloes sister was fayre Canacee,

That was the learnedst Ladie in her dayes,

Well seene in everie science that mote bee,

And every secret worke of natures wayes;

In wittie riddles, and in wise soothsayes;

In power of herbes, and tunes of beasts and burds;

And, that augmented all her other prayse,

She modest was in all her deedes and words,

And wondrous chast of life, yet lov’d of Knights and Lords.

Full many Lords and many Knights her loved,

Yet she to none of them her liking lent,

Ne ever was with fond affection moved,

But rul’d her thoughts with goodly governement,

For dread of blame and honours blemishment;

And eke unto her lookes a law she made,

That none of them once out of order went,

But like to warie Centonels well stayd,

Still watcht on every side, of secret foes affrayd.

So much the more as she refusd to love,

So much the more she loved was and sought,

That oftentimes unquiet strife did move

Amongst her lovers, and great quarrels wrought,

That oft for her in bloudie armes they fought.

Which whenas Cambell, that was stout and wise,

Perceiv’d would breede great mischiefe, he bethought

How to prevent the perill that mote rise,

And turne both him and her to honour, in this wise.