She saw so rich and royally arayd,
Returning back, those goodly rowmes, which
Now vanisht utterly and cleane subverst
That sight of such a chaunge her much dismayd
She found, and all their glory quite decayd.
Those dreadfull flames she also found delayd
Thence forth descending to that perlous porch
And quenched quite like a consumed torch.
That erst all entrers wont so cruelly to scorch.,

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

220

THE FOURTH BOOKE

OF

THE FAERIE QUEENE

CONTAINING THE LEGEND OF CAMBEL AND TRIAMOND, OR OF FRIENDSHIP.

I

THE rugged forhead, that with grave foresight
Welds kingdomes causes and affaires of state,
My looser rimes (I wote) doth sharply wite
For praising love as I have done of late,
And magnifying lovers deare debate;
By which fraile youth is oft to follie led,
Through false allurement of that pleasing baite.
That better were in vertues discipled,
Then with vaine poemes weeds to have their
fancies fed.

II

Such ones ill judge of love that cannot love, Ne in their frosen hearts feele kindly flame. Forthy they ought not thing unknowne

reprove,

Ne naturall affection faultlesse blame
For fault of few that have abusd the same;
For it of honor and all vertue is
The roote, and brings forth glorious flowres
That crowne true lovers with immortall blis,
[of fame,
The meed of them that love, and do not live

amisse.

III

Witnesse the father of Philosophie,
Which to his Critias, shaded oft from sunne,
In love were either ended or begunne:
Of love full manie lessons did apply,
The which these Stoicke censours cannot well
[deny

IV

To such therefore I do not sing at all;
In whose chast brest all bountie naturall
But to that sacred Saint my soveraigne Queene,
To her I sing of love, that loveth best,
And treasures of true love enlocked beene,
Bove all her sexe that ever yet was seene.
To her this song most fitly is addrest,
And best is lov'd of all alive, I weene,
The Queene of love, and Prince of peace from
heaven blest.

V

Do thou, dred infant, Venus dearling dove, Which that she may the better deigne to From her high spirit chase imperious feare, heare, Which who so list looke backe to former ages, Deawd with ambrosiall kisses, by thee gotten And use of awfull Majestie remove. And call to count the things that then were From thy sweete smyling mother from above, Insted thereof with drops of melting love, donne, Shall find that all the workes of those wise [sages, Sprinckle her heart, and haughtie courage And brave exploits which great Heroes wonne, That she may hearke to love, and reade this [lesson often.

I

CANTO I.

soften,

Fayre Britomart saves Amoret:

Duessa discord breedes

Twixt Scudamour and Blandamour:
Their fight and warlike deedes.

Or lovers sad calamities of old
Full many piteous stories doe remaine,
But none more piteous ever was ytold
Then that of Amorets hart-binding chaine,

And this of Florimels unworthie paine
The deare compassion of whose bitter fit
My softened heart so sorely doth constraine,
That I with teares full oft doe pittie it,
And oftentimes doe wish it never had bene writ.

For that same vile Enchauntour Busyran, The very selfe same day that she was wedded, Amidst the bridale feast, whilest every man, Surcharg'd with wine, were heedlesse and illhedded,

All bent to mirth before the bride was bedded, Brought in that mask of love which late was showen;

Die had she lever with Enchanters knife
Then to be false in love, profest a virgine wife.

VII

Thereto her feare was made so much the
greater

Through fine abusion of that Briton mayd;
And maske her wounded mind, both did and
Who, for to hide her fained sex the better
sayd

That well she wist not what by them to gesse
Full many things so doubtfull to be wayd.
For other-whiles to her she purpos made
Of love, and other-whiles of lustfulnesse
That much she feard his mind would grow to

some excesse.

VIII

His will she feard; for him she surely thought And much the more by that he lately wrought, To be a man, such as indeed he seemed: When her from deadly thraldome he redeemed. And there the Ladie, ill of friends bestedded, By way of sport, as oft in maskes is knowen, For which no service she too much esteemed: Conveyed quite away to living wight un-Yet dread of shame and doubt of fowle dis

knowen.

IV

Seven moneths he so her kept in bitter smart,
Because his sinfull lust she would not serve,
Untill such time as noble Britomart
Released her, that else was like to sterve
Through cruell knife that her deare heart did

kerve:

And now she is with her upon the way
Marching in lovely wise, that could deserve
No spot of blame, though spite did oft assay
To blot her with dishonor of so faire a pray.

honor

Made her not yeeld so much as due she deemed. I
Yet Britomart attended duly on her,
As well became a knight, and did to her al

honor.

IX

Unto a Castell, lodged there to bee,
It so befell one evening, that they came
Where many a knight, and many a lovely

Dame,

Was then assembled deeds of armes to see:
Amongst all which was none more faire tha
shee,

That many of them mov'd to eye her sore.
The custome of that place was such, that be
Which had no love nor lemman there in store.
Should either winne him one, or lye without t
dore.

X

Amongst the rest there was a jolly knight,
Who, being asked for his love, avow'd
That fairest Amoret was his by right,
The warlike virgine, seeing his so prowd
And offred that to justitie alowd.
And boastfull chalenge, wexed inlie wroth;
But for the present did her anger shrowd
But either he should neither of them have
both.
And sayd, her love to lose she was full both

XI

So foorth they went, and both together giust same younker soone was on throwne, But that

And made repent that he had rashly lusted
For thing unlawfull, that was not his owne :
Yet since he seemed valiant, though un-
knowne,

She, that no lesse was courteous then stout,
Cast how to salve, that both the custome
showne

Were kept, and yet that Knight not locked out; That seem'd full hard t' accord two things so far in dout.

XII

The Seneschall was cal'd to deeme the right:
Whom she requir'd, that first fayre Amoret
Might be to her allow'd, as to a Knight
That did her win and free from chalenge set:
Which straight to her was yeelded without let.
Then, since that strange Knights love from
him was quitted,

She claim'd that to her selfe, as Ladies det,
He as a Knight might justly be admitted;
So none should be out shut, sith all of loves
were fitted.

XIII

With that, her glistring helmet she unlaced; Which doft, her golden lockes, that were upbound

Still in a knot, unto her heeles downe traced,
And like a silken veile in compasse round
About her backe and all her bodie wound:
Like as the shining skie in summers night,
What time the dayes with scorching heat
abound,

Is creasted all with lines of firie light,
That it prodigious seemes in common peoples
sight.

XIV

Such when those Knights and Ladies all
about

Beheld her, all were with amazement smit,
And every one gan grow in secret dout
Of this and that, according to each wit: [it:
Some thought that some enchantment faygned
Some, that Bellona in that warlike wise
To them appear'd, with shield and armour fit;
Some, that it was a maske of strange disguise:
So diversely each one did sundrie doubts de-
vise.

XV

231

And to her bed, which she was wont forbeare, Now freely drew, and found right safe assurance theare.

XVI

Where all that night they of their loves did
treat,

That each the other gan with passion great
And hard adventures, twixt themselves alone,
And griefull pittie privately bemone.
The morow next, so soone as Titan shone,
They both uprose and to their waies them
dight:

Long wandred they, yet never met with none
Or to them tydings tell that mote their harts
That to their willes could them direct aright,
delight.

XVII

Lo! thus they rode, till at the last they spide
Two armed Knights that toward them did
And ech of them had ryding by his side
pace,
A Ladie, seeming in so farre a space :
And outward shew faire semblance they did
But Ladies none they were, albee in face
beare;

Vile treason and fowle falshood hidden were,
For under maske of beautie and good grace
That mote to none but to the warie wise
appeare.

XVIII

The one of them the false Duessa hight,
That now had chang'd her former wonted
hew:

For she could d'on so manie shapes in sight,
As ever could Cameleon colours new;
The other no whit better was then shee,
So could she forge all colours, save the trew.
But that such as she was she plaine did shew:
Yet otherwise much worse, if worse might bee,
And dayly more offensive unto each degree.

XIX

And all dissention which doth dayly grow
Her name was Atè, mother of debate
Amongst fraile men, that many a publike
state,

And many a private oft doth overthrow.
Her false Duessa, who full well did know

But that young Knight, which through her To be most fit to trouble noble knights
gentle deed

Was to that goodly fellowship restor'd,

Which hunt for honor, raised from below
Out of the dwellings of the damned sprights,

Ten thousand thankes did yeeld her for her Where she in darknes wastes her cursed daies

meed,

And, doubly overcommen, her ador'd.

So did they all their former strife accord;
And eke fayre Amoret, now freed from feare,
More franke affection did to her afford,