 Book 6. Canto XI. The Legend of Calador. This is a Librivox recording. All Librivox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librivox.org. Recording by Morgan Scorpion. The Fairy Queen by Edmund Spencer. Book 6. The Legend of Calador. Canto XI. The thieves fall out for pastoral, whilst Melody is slain, her Calador from them redeems, and bringeth back again. The joys of love, if they should ever last, without affliction or disquietness, that worldly chances do amongst them cast, would be on earth too great a blessedness, likeer to heaven than mortal wretchedness. Therefore, the winged God, to let men weep, that here on earth is no sure happiness, a thousand sars have tempered with one sweet, to make it seem more dear and dainty, as is meat. Like as is now befallen to this fair maid, fair pastoral, of whom is now my song, who being now in dreadful darkness laid, amongst those thieves which her in bondage strong detained, yet fortune not with all this wrong contented greater mischief on her thru, and sorrows heaped on her in greater throng, that whoso hears her heaviness would ruin pity her sad plight, so changed from pleasant hue. While thus she in these hellish dens remained, wrapped in wretched cares and hearts unrest, it so befell, as fortune had ordained, that he which was their captain professed, and had the chief command of all the rest, one day as he did all his prisoner's view with lustful eyes, beheld that lovely guest, fair pastorella, whose sad mournful hue, like the fair mourning clad in misty fog did shew. At sight whereof his barbarous heart was fired, and inly burnt with fame's most raging watt, that her alone he for his part desired, of all the other prey which they had got, and her in mind did to himself a lot. From that day forth he kindness to her showed, and sought her love by all the means he moat, with looks, with words, with gifts he offed her woud, and mixed threats among, and march unto her vowed. But all that ever he could do or say, her constant mind could not a wit remove, nor draw unto the lure of his lewd lay to grant him favour, or afford him love. But seized he not to sow, and always prove, by which he moat accomplish his request, saying and doing all that moat behove, nor day nor night he suffered her to rest, but her all night did watch, and all the day molest. At last, when him she so importun saw, fearing least he at length the reins would lend unto his lust, and make his will his law, sith in his power she was to foe or friend, she thought it best for shadow to pretend some show of favour, by him gracing small, that she thereby moat either freely went, or at more ease continued there his thaw, a little while his lent, and gainest more with all. So from thence forth, when love he to her made, with better terms she did him entertain, which gave him hope, and did him half persuade, that he in time her joyance should obtain, but when she saw, through that small favour's gain, that further, then she willing was he pressed, she found no means to bar him but to feign a sudden sickness, which her saw thrust, and made unfit to serve his lawless mind as behest. By means whereof she would not him permit once to approach to her in privity, but only amongst the rest by her to sit, mourning the rigor of her malady, and seeing all things meet for remedy, but she resolved no remedy to find, nor better cheer to show in misery, till fortune would her captive bonds unbind, her sickness was not of the body, but the mind. During which space she thus sick did lie, it chanced a sort of merchants, which were wont to skim those coasts, or bondmen there to buy, and by such traffic after gains to hunt, arrived in this isle through bear and blunt, to inquire for slaves, where being ready met by some of these same thieves at the instant front, were brought unto their captain, who were set by his fair patient's side with sorrowful regret. To whom they should, how those merchants were, arrived in place, their bond-slaves fought a buy, and therefore prayed that those same captives there, moat to them for their most commodity be sold, and amongst them shared equally. This their request the captain much appalled, yet could he not their just demand deny, and would straight the slaves should forth be called, and sold for most advantage not to be forestalled. Then forth the good old Melibow was brought, and co-ed on with many other moe, whom they before in diverse spoils had caught, all which he to the march and sail did show, till some, which did the sundry prisoners know, began to inquire for that fair Shepardess, which with the rest they took not long ago, and gained her form and features to express, the moat augment her price, through praise of commoners. To whom the captain, in full angry wise, made answer, that the maid of whom they spake, was his own purchase, and his only prize, with which none had to do, nor ought partake, but he himself, which did that conquest make. Still for him to have one silly laugh, besides, through sickness now so one and weak, that nothing meet in march and dies to pass, so showed them her to prove how pale and weak she was. The sight of whom, though now decayed and marred, and eke but hardly seen by candlelight, yet like a diamond of rich regard, in doubtful shadow of the dark some night, with starry beams about her shining bright, these marchants fixed at eyes did so amaze, that what so wonder and what so delight, a while on her they greedily did gaze, and did her greatly like, and did her greatly praise. At last, when all the rest of them offered were, and prizes to them place at their pleasure, they all refused in regard of her, nor ought would buy, however prized with measure, without burden her, whose worth above all treasure they did esteem, and offered store of gold. But then the captain fraught with mortis' pleasure, bad them be still, his love should not be sold, the rest take if they would, let her to him would hold. There with some other of the chiefest thieves boldly him bad such injury for bear, for that same maid, however it him grieves, should with the rest be sold before him there, to make the prizes of the rest more dear, that with great rage he stoutly doth denay, and fiercely drawing forth his blade, thus swear, that whoso hardy hand on her doth lay, it dearly shall abide, and death for Hansel pay. Thus as they words amongst them multiply, they fall to strokes the fruit of too much talk, and the mad steel about doth fiercely fly, not sparing white, nor leaving any bulk, but making way for death at large to walk, who in the horror of the greasly night, in thousand dreadful shapes doth amongst them stalk, and makes huge havoc, whilst the candlelight, out quenched, leaves no skill nor difference of white. Like as a sort of hungry dog's immet, about some carcass by the common way, do fall together, striving each to get the greatest portion of the greedy prey, all on confused heaps themselves assay, and snatch, and bite, and rend, and tug, and tear, that who them sees would wander at their fray, and who sees not would be afraid to hear. Such was the conflict of those cruel driggans there. But first of all, their captives they do kill, least they should join against the weaker side, or rise against the remnant at their will. Lord Melibor is slain, and him beside his aged wife, with many others wide, but Corridon escaping craftily, creeps forth of doors, whilst darkness him doth hide, and flies away as fast as he can hide, nor steth leave to take before his friends do die. But Pastorella, woeful wretched elf, was by the captain all this wild offended, who minding more her safety than himself, his target always over her pretended. By means were of, that moat not be amended. He at the length was slain, and laid on ground, yet holding fast, twixed both his arms extended, fair Pastorella, who with the self-same wound, lanced through the arm, fell down with him in dreary swooned. There lay she, covered with confused prists of carcasses, which dying on her fell, though when as he was dead the fray-gan sees, and each to other calling did compel to stay their cool hands from slaughter fell, sith they that were the cause of all were gone. There too they all at once agreed well, and lighting candles new, gun-search anon, how many of their friends were slain, how many phone. Their captain there they cruelly found killed, and in his arms the dreary dying maid, like a sweet angel, twixed two clouds up hill'd, her lovely light was dimmed and decayed, with cloud of death upon her eyes displayed. It did the cloud make even that dimmed light seem much more lovely in that darkness-laid, and twix the twinkling of her eyelids bright, to spark out little beams like stars in foggy night. But when they moved the carcasses aside, they found that life did yet in her remain, then all their helps they busily applied to call the soul back to her home again, and wrought so well with labour and long pain that they to life recovered her at last, too sighing saw, as if her heart in twain had riven been, and all her heartstrings brust, with dreary drooping eye looked up like one aghast. There she beheld that saw her grieve to see, her father and her friends about her lying, her self-soul left, a second spoil to be, of those that having saved her from dying renewed her death by timely death denying, what now is left her but to wail and weep, waning her hands unrufully loud crying, nor cared she her wound in tears to steep, albeit with all their might those brigands did her keep. But when they saw her now lived again, they left her so in charge of one the best of many worse, who with unkind disdain and cruel rigor did her much molest, scarce yielding her due food or timely rest, and scarcely suffering her infested wound that saw her pained by any to redress. So leave we her in wretched throldom bound, and turn me back to Calador where we him found. Who when he back returned from the wood, and saw his shepherd's cottage spoiled quite, and his love reft away, he waxed wood, and half enraged at that rueful sight, that even his heart for very fell despite, and his own flesh he ready was to tear. He chuffed, he grieved, he fretted, and he sighed, and fared like a furious wild bear, whose welfs are stolen away, she being otherware. No white he found to whom he might complain, no white he found of whom he might inquire, that more increased the anguish of his pain, he sought the woods, but no man could see there, he sought the plains, but could know tidings here. The woods did not but echoes vain rebound, the plains all waste and empty did appear, where once the shepherds off their pipes resound, and feed an hundred flocks, there now not one he found. At last as there he roamered up and down, he chanced one coming towards him to spy, that seemed to be some sorry simple clown, with ragged weeds, and locks upstaring high, as if he did from some late danger-fly, and yet his fear did follow him behind, who as he unto him approached at nigh, he moat perceived by signs, which he did find, that corridor on it was, the silly shepherd's hind. Though to him running fast, he did not stay to greet him first, but asked where were the rest, where pastorelle, who full of fresh dismay, and gushing forth in tears, were so oppressed, that he no word could speak, but smid his breast, and up to heaven his eyes fast streaming through, where at the night amazed, yet did not rest, but asked again, what meant that rueful hue, where was his pastorelle, where all the other crew? Our well away, said he then sighing, saw, that ever I did live this day to see, this dismal day, and was not dead before, before I saw fair pastorelle die, die? What a last, then callidorded cry! How could the death dare ever hurt a quail? But read, thou shepherd, read what destiny, or other direful hap from heaven or hell, has wrought this wicked deed, do fear away, and tell. Though when the shepherd breathed had a while, he thus began, where shall I then commence this woeful tale, or how those brigands vile with cool rage, and dreadful violence, rolled all our cots, and carried us from hence, or how fair pastorelle should have been sold to merchants, but were saved with strong defence, or how those thieves, whilst one sought her to hold, fell all at odds, and fought through fury, fierce and bold. In that same conflict woe is me befell this fatal chance, this doleful accident, whose heavy tidings now I have to tell. Against all the captives, which they here had hent, were by them slain by general consent. Old Melibor and his good wife withal, these eyes saw die, and dearly did lament. But when the lots pastorelle did fall, their captain long withstood, and did her death poor stall. But what could he against all them do alone? It could not boot, needs moat, she died at last. I only escaped through great confusion, of cries and clamours, which among them passed in dreadful darkness dreadfully aghast, that better were with them to have been dead, than here to see all desolate and waste, despoiled of those joys and jolly head, with which those gentle shepherds here I want to lead. When Calador these rueful news had wrought, his heart quite dead it was with anguish great, and all his wits with dole were nigh distort, that he his face, his head, and breast did beat, and death itself unto himself did threat, oft cursing the heavens, that so cruel were to her, whose name he often did repeat, and wishing oft, that he were present there, when she was slain, or had been to her succour near. But after grief a while had had his course, and spent itself in mourning, he at last began to mitigate his swelling source, and in his mind with better reason cast, how he might save her life, if life did last, or if that dead, how he her death might wreak, sith otherwise he could not mend thing past, or if it to revenge he were too weak, then for to die with her, and his life's thread to break. Though Corridon he prayed, sith he well knew the ready way unto that feverish one, to wend with him, and read his conduct true unto the place, to see what should be done, that he, whose heart through fear was late foredone, would not, for ought be drawn to form a dread, but by all means the danger known did shun, yet Calador so well him wrought with mead, and fair bespoke with words, that he at last agreed. So forth they go together, God before, both clad in shepherd's-weeds agreeably, and both with shepherd's hooks, but Calador had underneath him armoured privelly, though to the place when they approached nigh, they chanced, upon an hill not far away, some flocks of sheep and shepherds to a spy, to whom they both agreed to take their way, in hope their news to learn, how they might best assay. There did they find that which they did not fear. The self-same flocks, the which those thieves had wept from mellable and from themselves while ear, and certain of the thieves thereby them left, the which forewant of herds themselves then kept. Right well knew Corridon his own late sheep, and seeing them, for tender pity wept. But when he saw the thieves, which did them keep, his heart gone fail, albeit he saw them all asleep. But Calador, reconfiting his grief, though not his fear, for naught may fear dissuade, him hardly forward drew, whereas the thief lay sleeping soundly in the bush's shade, from Corridon him counseled to invade, now all unwares, and take the spoil away, but he that in his mind had closely made a further purpose, would not so them slay, but gently waking them gave them the time of day. Though sitting down by them upon the green, of sundry things he purposed gant a feign, that he by them might certain tidings wean of pastorelle, were she alive or slain, just which the thieves then question it again, what Mr. Men, and Eke from whence they were, to whom they answered, asked it appertain, that they were poor herd-grooms, the which Wylio had from their masters fled, and now sought hire elsewhere. Whereof right glad they seemed, an offer made, to hire them well, if they their flocks would keep, for they themselves were evil-grooms, they said, unwant with herds to watch, for pasture's sheep, but to foray the land, or scar the deep. There too they soon agreed, and earnest took, to keep their flocks for little hire and cheap, for they for better hire did shortly look, so there all day they bowed, till light the sky forsook. Though whence towards dark some night it drew, unto their hellish dens those thieves then brought, where shortly they in great acquaintance grew, and all the secrets of their entrails sought. There did they find, contrary to their thought, that pasturell yet lived, but all the rest were dead, right so as Corridon had taught. Whereof they both full glad and blithe did rest, but chiefly Calador, whom grief had most possessed. At length when they occasioned pitest found, in dead of night, when all the thieves did rest, after a late foray, and slept full sound, so Calador him armed as he thought best. Having of late bydiligent inquest, provided him a sword of meanest sort, with which he straight went to the captain's nest, but Corridon durst not with him consort, nor durst abide behind, for dread of worse effort. When to the cave they came, they found it fast. But Calador with huge resistless might, the doors assailed, and the locks up brassed, with noise were of the thief-awaking light, unto the entrance ran, where the bold knight encountering him with small resistance slew, the wilds' fair pasturell, through greater fright, was almost dead, as doubting least of new some uproar were like that, which lately she did view. But when as Calador was coming in, and Gan allowed for pasturell to call, knowing his voice, although not heard long sin, she sudden was revived there with awe, and wondrous joy felt in her spirit's thrall, like him that being long in tempest tossed, looking each hour into death's mouth to fall, at length the spies at hand the happy cost, on which he safely hopes that Urst feared to be lost. Her gentle heart, that now long season past had never joints felt, nor cheerful thought, the gansome smack of comfort knew to taste, like lifeful heat to numbered senses brought, and life to feel, that long for death had sought, no less in heart rejoiced at Calador, where he her found, but like to one distort, and robbed of reason, towards her him bore a thousand times embraast, and kissed a thousand more. But now by this with noise of late uproar the hue and cry was razor'd all about, but all the brigands flocking in great stall, unto the cave-gan-press, not having doubt of what was doing, and entered in a rout. But Calador in the entry closed its stand, and entertaining them with courage stout, still slew the foremost, that came first to hand, so long till all the entry was with bodies manned. Though when no more could night him approach, he breathed his sword, and rested him till day, which when he spied upon the earth to encroach, through the dead carcasses he made his way, amongst which he found a sword of better say, with which he forthwent into the open light, where all the rest for him did ready stay, and fierce assailing him, with all their might, gun all upon him lay their gun a dreadful fight. How many flies in hottest summer's day do seize upon some beast whose flesh is bare, that all the place with swarms to overlay, and with their little stings write fairly fair? So many thieves about him swarming are, all which to him assail on every side, and saw a press, nor any him doth spare. But he doth with his raging brawn divide their thickest troops, and round about him scatterthwide. Like as a lion, monks than herd of deer, disperseth them to catch his choice as prey. So did he fly amongst them here and there, and all that near him came did hew and slay, till he had strode with bodies all the way that none his danger daring to abide fled from his wrath, and did themselves convey into their caves their heads from death to hide, nor any left that victory to him envied. Then back returning to his dearest deer, he hurgand to reconfort all he might with gladful speeches, and with lovely cheer, and forth her bringing to the joyous light, whereof she long had lacked the wishful sight, devised all goodly means from her to drive the sad remembrance of her wretched plight. So her an'eath at last did revive, that long had lie undead, and made again alive. This deeron into those sievish dens he went, and thence did all the spoils and treasures take, which they from many long had robbed and rent, but fortune now the victors mead did make, of which the best he did his love betake, and also all those flocks which they before had rep from Melibol, and from his make, he did them all to Corridon restore, so drove them all away, and his love with him bore. Legend of Canto XI, Book VI, The Legend of Caledor Book VI, Canto XII, The Legend of Caledor This is a Librivox recording. All Librivox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit Librivox.org. Recording by Morgan Scorpion. The Fairy Queen by Edmund Spencer, Book VI, The Legend of Caledor Canto XII Fair Pastorella by Great Hap her parents understand, Caledor doth the blatant beasts subdue and bind in bands. Like as a ship, that through the ocean wide directs her course unto one certain coast, is met of many a counterwind and tide, with which her winged speed is let and crossed, and she herself in stormy surges tossed. Yet making many a board, and many a bay, still winneth way, nor hath her compass lost, right so it fares with me in this long way, whose course is often stayed, yet never is astray. For all that heather too hath long delayed this gentle night, from sowing his first quest, though out of course, yet hath not been mis-said, to show the courtesy by him professed, even unto the lowest and the least. But now I come unto my course again, to his achievement of the blatant beast, who all this while at will did range and reign, whilst none was him to stop, nor none him to restrain. So Caledor, when thus he now had wrought fair Pastorella from those brigands power, unto the castle of Belgard her brought, whereof was lord the good Sir Bellamore, who, alone was in his youth's fresh flower, a lusty night, as ever wielded spear, and had endured many a dreadful star in bloody battle for a lady dear, the fairest lady then of all that living were. Her name was Clarabel, whose father hight the lord of many lands, far renown for his great riches and his greater might. He threw the wealth wherein he did abound, this daughter thought in wedlock to have abound, unto the prince of Pictorland bordering near, but she whose sides before with secret wound of love to Bellamore in pierce it were, by all means shunned to match with any foreign fear. And Bellamore again so well her pleased, with daily service and attendance due, that of her love he was entirely seized, and closely did her wed, but known to few. Which when her father understood, he grew in so great rage, that them in dungeon deep without compassion cruelly he threw, yet did so straightly them a sonder-keep, that neither could to company of the other creep. Nevertheless, Sir Bellamore, whether through grace or secret gift, so with his keepers wrought, that to his love sometimes he came in place, whereof her womb unwist to white was fraught, and in due time a maiden-child forth fraught, which she straightway, for dread least if her sire should know thereof, to slay he would have sought, delivered to her handmaid, that for hire she should it cause be fostered under strange attire. The trusty downzel, bearing it abroad, into the empty fields, where living white moat not beray the secret of her load, she forthgan lay unto the open light the little babe, to take thereof a sight, whom whilst she did with watery iron behold, upon the little breast, like crystal-bright, she moat perceive a little purple mould, that like a rose her silken leaves did fair unfold. While she had marked, and pitied the moat, yet could not remedy her wretched case, but closing it again like as before, be due with tears there left it in the place, yet left not quite, but drew a little space behind the bushes, where she did her hide, to wheat what mortal hand, or heaven's grace, would for the wretched infant's help provide, for which it loudly called, and pitifully cried. At length a shepherd, which thereby did keep his fleecy flock upon the plains around, led with the infant's cry, that loud did weep, came to the place, where when he rapid found the abandoned spoil, he softly it unbound, and seeing there, that did him pity sore, he took it up, and in his mantle wound, so home unto his honest wife it bore, who as her own it nursed, and named evermore. Thus long continued Clarabel a thrall, and Bellamore in bands, till that her sigh departed life, and left unto them all, then all the storms of fortune's former ire were turned, and they to freedom did retire. Thenceforth they joyed in happiness together, and lived long in peace and love entire, without disquiet or dislike of ever, till time that Calador brought pastorella thither. Both whom they goodly well did entertain, for Bellamore knew Calador right well, and loved for his prowess, since they were twain, long since had fought in field. All's Clarabel no less did tender the fair pastorella, seeing her weak and won, through durance long. There they a while together thus did dwell, in much delight, and many joys among, until the damsel-gantor wex more sound and strong. Though Gantor Calador him to advise, of his first quest, which he had long for saw, a shame to think, how he that enterprise, the which the fairy queen had long for bequeathed to him, for slackard had so saw. That much he feared, least approachful blame, with foul dishonour him moat blocked therefore, besides the loss of so much loose and fame, as through the world thereby should glorify his name. Therefore resolving to return in haste, unto so great achievement he bethought to leave his love, now peril being passed, with Clarabel, whilest he that monster sought, throughout the world, and to destruction brought. So taking leave of his fair pastorella, whom to reconfort, all the means he wrought, with thanks to Bellamore and Clarabel, he went forth on his quest, and did that him befell. But first ere I do his adventures tell, and this exploit, me needest to declare what did betide to the fair pastorella, during his absence left in heavy care. Through daily morning and nightly misfare, yet did that ancient matron all she might, to cherish her with all things choice and rare, and her lone handmaid, that Melissa-height, appointed to attend her dually day and night. Who in a morning, when this maiden fair was dieting her, having her snowy breast as yet not laced, nor her golden hair into their comely tresses dually dressed, chanced to aspire upon her ivory chest the rosy mark, which she remembered well, that little infant had, which forth she kissed, the daughter of her Lady Clarabel, the witch she bore, the wiles in prison she did dwell. Which while arising, straight she gante cast in her conceitful mind, that this fair maid was that same infant, which so longs as passed she in the open fields had loosely laid to fortune's spoil, unable it to aid. So full of joy, straight forth she ran in haste, and to her mistress, being half dismayed, to tell her how the heavens had her graced to save her child, which in misfortune's mouth was placed. The sober mother, seeing such her mood, yet knowing not what meant that sudden throw, asked her how moat her words be understood, and what the matter was that moved her so. My leaf said she, you know that long ago, whilst ye endurance dwelt, ye to me gave a little maid, the witch she childhood, though, the same again, if now ye list to have, the same as yonder lady, whom High God did save. Much was the lady troubled at that speech, and gante question straight how she it knew, which certain marks said she, do me it teach, for on her breast I with these eyes did view the little purple rose, which thereon grew, whereof her name ye then to her did give. Besides her countenance, and her likely hue, matched with equal years, do surely prove, that yonder same is your daughter's sure, which yet doth live. The matron stayed no longer to inquire, but forth in haste ran to the stranger maid, and catching greedily for great desire, rent up her breast, and bosom open laid, in which that rose she plainly saw displayed. Then her embracing twix to arm's twain she long so held, and softly weeping said, and livest thou my daughter now again, and art thou yet alive, whom dead I long did feign. Though further asking her of sundry things, and times comparing with their accidents, she found at last by very certain signs, and speaking marks of passing monuments, that this young maid, whom chance to her presents, is her own daughter, her own infant dear, though wandering long at those so strange events, a thousand times she her embraced near, with many a joyful kiss, and many a melting tear. Who ever is the mother of one child, which having thought long dead she finds alive, but her by proof of that, which she hath filed in her own breast, this mother's joy describe. For other none such passion can contrive in perfect form, as this good lady felt, when she so fair a daughter saw survive, as Pastorella was, that nigh she swelled for passing joy, which did all into pity-melt. Thence running forth unto her lovered lord, she unto him recounted all that fell, who for joining joy with her in one accord, acknowledged for his own fair Pastorella, their leave with them in joy, and let us tell of Calador, who seeking all this while that monstrous beast by final force to quell, through every place, with restless pain and toil, him followed by the tract of his outrageous spoil. Through all estates he found that he had passed, in which he many massacres had left, and to the clergy now was come at last, in which such spoil, such havoc, and such theft he wrought, that thence all goodness he bereft, that endless were to tell. The elf in night, who now no place besides unsought had left, had length unto a monesterted light, where he him found despoiling all with main and might. Into their cloisters now he broken had, through which the monks he chasted here and there, and then pursued into their daughters' side, and searched all their cells and secrets near, in which what filth and order did appear were irksome to report, yet that foul beast not sparing them, the more did toss and tear, and ransack all their dens from most to least, regarding not religion, nor their holy heast. From thence into the sacred church he broke, and robbed the chancel and the desks down through, and alters fouled, and blasphemy spoke, and the images for all their goodly hue did cast to ground, whilst none was them to rue, so all confounded and disordered there, but seeing Calador away he flew, knowing his fatal hand by form of fear, that he him fast-pursuing soon approached near. Him in narrow place he overtook, and fierce assailing forced him turn again, sternly he turned again, when he him struck, with his sharp steel, and ran at him a main with open mouth, that seemered to contain a full good peck within the utmost brim, all set with iron teeth in Ronge's twain, that terrified his foes, and armoured him, appearing like the mouth of Orcus greasely grim. And therein were a thousand tongues and pite, of sundry kinds, and sundry quality, some were of dogs that barked day and night, and some of cats, that rolling still did cry, and some of bears that groin'd continually, and some of tigers, that did seem to grin, and snar at all, that ever passered by, but most of them were tongues of mortal men, which spake reproachfully, not caring when or when. And them amongst were mingled here and there the tongues of serpents, with three forked stings, that spat at poison and gore bloody gear, at all, that came within his ravenings, and spake licentious words, and hateful things of good and bad alike, of low and high, nor caesars spared he a wit, nor kings, but either blotted them with infamy, or bit them with his vainful teeth of injury. But Calador, thereof no wit afraid, recountered him with so impetuous might, that the outrage of his violence he stayed, and better back, threatening in vain to bite, and spitting forth the poison of his spite, that foamed all about his bloody jaws, though rearing up his former feet on height, he ramped upon him with his ravenous paws, as if he would have rent him with his cruel claws. But he, right well aware, his rage toward, did cast his shield atwein, and therewithal, putting his precance forth, pursued so hard, that backward he enforced him to fall, and being down, ere he knew help could call, his shield he on him through, and fast downheld, like as a bullock, that in bloody stall of butchers baleful hand to ground his felt, is forcibly kept down, till he be throughly quelled. All cruelly the beast did rage and war, to be downheld, and maystered so with might, that he ganthret and foam out bloody gore, striving in vain to rear himself upright. For still the more he strobe, the more the night did him suppress, and forcibly subdue, that made him almost mad for fell despite. He grind, he bit, he scratched, he bent him through, and ferried like a fiend, right horrible in hue. Or like the hell-worn hydra, which they feign, that great al-Qaidi swallong overthrew, after that he had laboured long in vain, to crop his thousand heads, for which still knew forth-budded, and in greater number grew. Such was the fury of this hellish beast, whilst Calador him under him down through, who neither more his heavy load released, but either more he raged, the more his power increased. Though when the beast saw, he moat not avail, by force, he gan his hundred tongues-apply, and sharply at him to revile and rail, with bitter terms of shameful infamy, oft interlacing many a forgid lie, whose like he never once did speak, nor hear, nor ever thought thing so unworthily, yet did he not for all that him forbear, but strained him so straitly, that he choked him near. At last, when as he found his force to shrink, and raged to quail, he took a muzzle-strong of surest iron, made with many a link, therewith he mured up his mouth along, and therein shut up his blasphemous tongue, for nevermore defaming gentle night, or unto lovely lady doing wrong, and thereunto a great long chain he tied, with which he drew him forth, even in his own despite. The class while o'er that strong Tarinthian swain, brought forth with him the dreadful dog of hell, against his will fast bound in iron chain, and roaring horribly, did him compel to see the hateful sun, that he might tell to greasely Pluto what on earth was done, and to the other downward ghosts which dwell for eye in darkness, which daylight doth shun, so led this night his captive with like conquest one. Yet greatly did the beast repine at those strange bands, whose like till then he never bore, nor ever any durst till them impose, and choffered inly, seeing now no more him liberty was left allowed to roar. Yet durst he not draw back, nor once withstand the provid power of noble Calador, but trembled underneath his mighty hand, and like a fearful dog him followed through the land. Him through all fairyland he followed so, as if he learn it had obedience long, that all the people where so he did go, out of their towns did round about him throng, to see him lead that beast in bondage strong, and seeing it much wandered at the sight, and all such persons as he erstid wrong rejoiced at much to see his captive plight, and much admired the beast, but more admired the night. Thus was this monster by the maestering might of doubty Calador suppressed and tamed, that never more he moat in damage white with his bow tongue, which many had defamed, and many causeless caused to be blamed. So did he ache long after this remain, until that, whether wicked fate so framed, or fault of men, he broke his iron chain, and got into the world at liberty again. Since forth more mischief and more scuth he wrote, to mortal man, than he had done before, nor ever could by any more be brought into like bands, nor maestered any more. Albeit that long time after Calador, the good Sopelius, him took in hand, and after him Sir Lamarack of Yor, and all his brethren born in Britain land, yet none of them could ever bring him into band. So now he rangeth through the world again, and rageeth saw in each degree in state, nor any is that may him now restrain. He grown his so great and strong of late, barking and biting all that him do bait, albeit a worthy blame, or clear of crime, nor spareth he most learned wits to rate, nor spareth he the gentle poet's rhyme, but wrens without regard of person or of time. Nor may this homely verse of many meanest hope to escape his venomous despite. More than my former wits, all were they clearest from blamful blot, and freed from all that white, with which some wicked tongues did it backbite, and bring into a mighty pair his displeasure, that never so deserved to indict. Therefore, do you my rhymes keep better measure, and seek to please, that now is countered Wiseman's treasure. Finney End of Canto 12, Book 6, The Legend of Calidor. End of Book 6, The Legend of Calidor. Book 7, Canto 6, The Cantos of Mutability. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Fairy Queen by Edmund Spencer. Book 7, The Cantos of Mutability, Canto 6. Proud change not pleased in mortal things beneath the moon terrain pretends as well of gods as men to be the sovereign. But man that sees the ever whirling wheel of change, the witch or mortal things doth sway. But that thereby doth find and plainly feel, how mutability in them doth play, her cruel sports to many men's decay. Which that to all may better yet appear, I will rehearse that hold'em I heard say. How she at first herself began to rear, against all the gods, the empire sought from them to bear. But first her fall of fittest to enfold her antique race and lineage ancient. As I have found it registered of old in Fairyland, amongst records permanent, she was, to it, a daughter by descent of those old Titans, that did all them strive, with Saturn's son for heaven's regiment, whom, though high-jove of kingdom did deprive, yet many of their stem long after did survive. And many of them afterwards obtained great power of jove and high authority, as Hecate in whose almighty hand he placed all rule and principality, to be by her disposed diversely to gods and men, as she them list divide, and dread balona that doth sound on high, wars and alarums unto nations wide that makes both heaven and earth to tremble at her pride. And likewise did this Titaness aspire, rule and dominion to herself to gain, that as a goddess men might her admire, and heavenly honours yield as to them twain, at first on earth she sought it to obtain, where she such proof and sad examples shoot, of her great power, to many one's greater pain, that not men only, whom she soon subdued, but equal other creatures her bad doings rude. For she, the face of earthly things so changed, that all which nature had established first. In good estate and in meat order ranged, she did pervert, and all their statutes burst, and all the world's fair frame, which none yet durst, of gods or men to alter or misguide, she altered quite, and made them all accursed, that God had blessed, and did at first provide, in that still happy state for ever to abide. Nishi, the laws of nature only break, but eek of justice and of policy, and wrong of right and bad of good did make, and death for life exchanged foolishly, since which, all living whites have learned to die, and all this world is walks and daily worse, of piteous work of mutability, by which we all are subject to that curse and death instead of life, have sucked from our nurse. But now, when all the earth she thus had brought to her behest, and thralled to her might, she began to cast in her ambitious thought, to tempt the empire of the heavens height, and drove himself to shoulder from his right, and first she passed the region of the air, and of the fire, whose substance thin and slight, made no resistance, neither could her contrayer, but ready passage to her pleasure did prepare. And to the circle of the moon she claimed, where Synthia reigns in everlasting glory, to whose bright shining palace straight she came, all fairly decked with heaven's goodly story, whose silver gates, by which they're sat, and hurry, old-aged sigh with hourglass in hand, by time she entered, where he leaf all sorry, and he stayed till she, the highest stage, had scant, where Synthia did sit, that never still did stand. As sitting on an ivory throne she found, drawn of two steeds, the one black, the other white, environed with ten thousand stars around, that duly her attended day and night, and by her side there ran her page that hight, Vesper, whom we the evening star intend, that with his torch still twinkling like twilight, her lightened all the way, where she should wind, and joy to weary wandering travellers did lend. That when the hardy tightness beheld, the goodly building of her palace bright, made of the heaven's substance, and upheld, with thousand crystal pillars of huge height, she began to burn in her ambitious sprite, and to envy her that in such glory reigned, if soonce she cast by force and tortuous might, her to displace and to herself to have gained, the kingdom of the night, and waters by her waned. Oldly she bid the goddess down to send, and let herself into that ivory throne, for she herself more worthy thereof wind, and better able it to guide alone, whether to men whose fall she did bemoan, or unto gods whose state she did malign, or to the infernal powers her need give loan, of her fair light and bounty most benign, herself of all that rule she dimmed most condyne. But she that had to her that sovereign's seat by highest jove assigned therein to bear, night's burning lamp regarded not her thread, nor yielded ought for favour or for fear, but with stern countenance and disdainful cheer, bending her horned brows did put her back, and boldly blaming her for coming there, bade her at once from heaven's coast to pack, or at her peril by the wrathful thunder's rack. It neither more the giant is for bear, but boldly, pressing on, wart forth her hand to pluck her down per force from off her chair, and therewith lifting up her golden wand threatened to strike her if she did withstand, or at the stars which round about her blazed, and ick the moon's bright wagon still did stand, or being with so bold attempt amazed, and on her uncouth habit and stern look still gazed. Meanwhile the lower world, which nothing knew of all that chanced here, was darkened quite, and ick the heavens and all the heavenly crew of happy wights, now unpervade of light were much afraid and wondered at that sight. Fearingless chaos broke and had his chain, and brought again on them eternal night, but chiefly mercury'd that next doth reign ran forth in haste unto the king of gods to play. All ran together with a great outcry, to Job's fair palace fixed in heaven's height, and beating at his gates full earnestly, gan called to him aloud with all their might, to know what meant the sudden lack of light. The father of the gods, whom this he heard, was troubled much at their so strange a fright, doubting least Typhon were again upreared, or other his old foes that once him sorely feared. If't soon's the son of Mayer forth he sent down to the circle of the moon to know the cause of this so strange astonishment, and why she did her wanted course for slow, and if that any were on earth below, that did with charms or magic hermalest, him to attach and down to hell to throw, but if from heaven it were then to arrest the author and him bring before his presence pressed. The winged foot god so fast his plumes did beat, that soon he came, whereas the titaness was striving with their Cynthia for the seat, at whose strange sight and haughty hardiness he wandered much and feared her no less, yet laying fear aside to do his charge, at last he bait her with bold steadfastness, cease to molest the moon to walk at large, or come before Hy-Jove her doings to discharge. And there with all he on her shoulder laid his snaky wreathed mace, whose awful power doth make both gods and hellish fiends afraid, wrath the titaness did sternly lower, and stoutly answered that in evil hour he from his jove such message to her brought, to bid her leave for Cynthia's silver bower, sith she his jove and him esteemed nought, no more than Cynthia's self, but all their kingdoms sought. The heavens herald stayed not to reply, but passed away his doings to relate unto his lord, who now in the highest sky was placed in his principal estate, with all the gods about him congregate, to whom, when Hermes had his message told, it did them all exceedingly a mate, save jove, who changing nought his countenance bold, did unto them at length these speeches wise unfold. Harkened to me awhile, ye heavenly powers, ye may remember since the earth's cursants cede, sought to assail the heavens eternal towers, and to us all exceeding fear did breed, but how we then defeated all their deed. We all do know, and them destroyed quite, yet not so quite, but that there did succeed, an offspring of their blood, which did alight, upon the fruitful earth, which doth hath yet despite. Of that bad seed is this bold woman-bred, that now with bold presumption doth aspire, to thrust their Phoebe from her silver bed, and eke ourselves from heaven's high empire, if that her might were matched to her desire, wherefore it now behooves us to advise, what way is best to drive her to retire, whether by open force or counsel wise, a read ye sons of God, as best ye can devise. So having said, he ceased, and with his brow his black eyebrow, his doomful dreaded beck, his want to wield the world unto his vow, and even the highest powers of heaven to check, made sign to them in their decrees to speak, who straightgan cast their counsel grave and wise. Meanwhile, the earth's daughter, though she naught did reek of Hermes' message, yet gan now advise, what course were best to take in this hot bold imprise. If soonce she thus resolved, that whilst the gods, after return of Hermes' embassy, were troubled and amongst themselves at odds, before they could knew counsel's real eye, and set upon them in that ecstasy, and take what fortune time and place would lend, so forth she rose and threw the purest sky, to Job's high palace straightcast to ascend, to prosecute her plot, good on set bodes good end. She there, arriving boldly, indid pass, were all the gods she found in counsel close, all quite unarmed, as then their manner was. At sight of her they sudden all arose in greater maze, and he wished what way to choose, but Job all fearless, forced them to abide, and in his sovereign throne, gan straight disposed, himself more full of grace and majesty, that moat in cheer his friends, and foes moat to terrify. That when the haughty titanus beheld, or were she fraught with pride and impudence, yet with the sight thereof was almost quelled, and inly quaking, seemed as refth of sense and void of speech in that dread audience, until that Job himself herself bespeak. Speak thou frail woman, speak with confidence, whence art thou, and what dost thou he now make, what idle errand hast thou earth's mansion to forsake? She, half confused with his great command, yet gathering spirit of her nature's pride, in boldly answered thus to his demand, I am a daughter, by the mother's side of her that is grand mother magnified of all the God's great earth, great chaos child, but by the father's be it not envied, I greater am in blood whereon I build than all the God's though wrongfully from heaven exiled. The titan, as ye all acknowledge must, was Saturn's elder brother by earthright, both sons of Uranus, but by unjust and gyreful means, through Corribanti's slight, the younger thrust the elder from his right, since which thou, Job, injuriously hast held the heaven's rule from titan's sons by might, and them to hellish dungeons down past fell'd, witness ye heaven's the truth of all that I have tell'd. Of she, thus spake, the God's that gave good ear to her bold words and marked well her grace, being of stature tall as any there, of all the God's and beautiful a face as any of the God's as in place, stood all astonished, like a sort of steers, amongst whom some beast of strange and foreign race unwares his chance, far straying from his peers, so did their ghastly gaze beray their hidden fears. Till having paused awhile, Job thus bespake, will never mortal thought cease to aspire in this bold sort to heaven claim to make and touch celestial seats with earthly mire? I would have thought that bold per crust is higher, or typhons fall, or Proudyxin's pain, or great Prometheus, tasting of our ire, would have sufficed the rest for to restrain, and warned all men by their example to refrain. But now this offscum of that curse fry, dare to renew the like bold enterprise, and challenge the heritage of this our sky, in what should hinder but that we likewise, should handle as the rest of her allies, and thunderedrive to hell, with that he shook his nectar-dewed locks, with which the skies and all the world beneath for terror cook, and after his burning leaven bronze in hand he took. But when he looked on her lovely face, in which fair beams of beauty did appear, that could the greatest wrath soon turn to grace, such swayed off-beauty even in heaven bear, he stayed his hand, and having changed his cheer he thus again in milder wise began. But, ah, if God should strive with flesh, you fair, then shortly should the progeny of man be rooted out, if Job should do still what he can. But thee, fair Titan's child, I rather wean, through some vain error or inducement light, to see that mortal eyes have never seen, or through in sample of thy sister's might Bologna, whose great glory thou dost spite. Since thou hast seen her dreadful power below, amongst wretched men dismayed with her afright, to bandy crowns and kingdoms to the stow, and sure though worth, no less than hers do't seem to show. But what thou this, thou hardy Titan's, but not the worth of any living white may challenge ought in heaven's interests, much less the title of old Titan's right, for we by conquest of our sovereign might and by eternal doom of fates decree, have won the empire of the heavens bright, which to ourselves we hold, and to whom we shall worthy deem partakers of our bliss to be. And cease thy idle claim, thou foolish girl, and seek by grace and goodness to obtain that place from which by folly Titan fell. There too thou mayst perhaps, if so thou feign, have jove thy gracious lord and sovereign. So having said, she thus to him replied, cease, Satan's son, to seek by prophet's vein of idle hopes to lure me to thy side, for to betray my right before I have tried. That thee, O Jove, no equal judge I deem of my desert or of my dufal right, that in thine own behalf mayst partial sing, but to the highest him that is, be height father of gods and men by equal might, to wit the God of nature I appeal. There at Jove wext wroth, and in his sprite did inly grudge, yet did it well conceal, and Bade Dan Thebes scribe her Appalachian seal. Aftersoons the time and place appointed were where all both heavenly powers and earthly whites before great nature's presence should appear for trial of their titles and best rights. That was to wit upon the highest heights of Arlo Hill, who knows not Arlo Hill. That is the highest head in all men's sights of my old father Moll, whom shepherds quill, renowned hath with hymns fit for a rural skill. And were it not ill fitting for this far, to sing of hills and woods amongst wars and knights, I would abate the sternness of my style, amongst these stern stounds to mingle soft delights, and tell how Arlo threw Dianne's spites, being of old the best and the fairest hill, that was in all this holy island's heights, was made the most unpleasant and most ill, meanwhile, O Cleo, lend Calliope thy quill. While, when Ireland flourished in fame of wealth and goodness, far above the rest, of all that bear the British island's name, the gods then used the pleasure and the rest. Off to resort there to, when seemed them best, that none of all therein more pleasure found than Cynthia, that is sovereign queen, professed, of woods and forests, which therein abound, sprinkled with wholesome waters, more them most on ground. But, amongst them all, as fittest for her game, either for chases of beasts with hound or bore, or for to shroud in shade from fever's flame or bathen fountains that do freshly flow. Or from high hills, or from the dales below, she chose this Arlo, where she did resort with all her nymphs and ranged on a rogue, with whom the woody gods did oft consort, for with the nymphs the satyrs loved to play and sport. Amongst the witch, there was a nymph that Hyte Milana, daughter of old Father Moe, and sister unto Muller, fair and bright, unto whose bed falls big oak hole and stole, that shepherd Collin dearly did condol, and made her luckless loves well known to be, but this Milana, where she not so sholl, were no less fair and beautiful than she, yet as she is, a fairer flood may no man see. For first, she springs out of two marble rocks, on which a grove of oaks high mountain grows, but as a girl on seems to deck the locks of some fair bride, brought forth with pompous shoves, out of her bow, that many flowers stroves. So, through the flowery dales, she tumbling down, through many woods and shady cupboards flows, and on each side her silver channel crown, till to the plain she come, whose valleys she doth drown. In her sweet streams, Diana used oft, after her sweaty chasts and toils and play to bathe herself, and after on the soft and downy grass, her dainty limbs to lay, in covered shade, where none behold her may. For much she hated sight of living eye, foolish god Faunus, though full many a day, he saw her clad, yet longed foolishly to see her naked amongst her nymphs and privity. No way he found to compass his desire, but to corrupt Malana, this her maid, her to discover for some secret hire, so her with flattering words he thirst assayed, and after pleasing gifts for her pervade, Queen Apples, and red cherries from the tree, with which he her allured and betrayed, to tell what time he might her lady see, when she herself did bathe, that he might secret be. There too he promised, if she would him pleasure, with this small boon, to quit her with a better, to wit, that where, as she had out of measure, long loved the fortune who by nought did set her, that he would undertake for this to get her, to be his love, and of him liked well, besides all which he vowed to be her debtor, for many more good turns than he would tell, the least of which this little pleasure should excel. The simple maid did yield to him anon, and eft him placed where he close might view, that never any saw save only one, who for his hire to sow full hardy dew, was of his hounds devoured in Hunter's hue, though, as her manner was on sunny day, Diana with her nymphs about her drew, to this sweet spring where, doffing her array, she bathed her lovely limbs, for Joe for lightly pray. Their fauna saw, that pleased, muched his eye, and made his heart to tickle in his breast, that full great joy of somewhat heated spy, he could him not contain in silent rest, but breaking forth in laughter, loud professed, his foolish thought, oh foolish forewarn indeed, that could not hold thyself so hidden blessed, but woods needs dine-own conceit a reed, babbler's unworthy being of so divine a mead. The goddess, all abashed with that noise, in haste forth started from the guilty book, and running straight, whereas she heard his voice and closed the bush about, and there him took, like dared lark, not daring up to look, on her whose sight before so much he sought, thence forth they drew him by the horns, and shook nigh all to pieces, that they left him nought, and then into the open light they forth him brought. Like as an housewife, that with busy care, thinks of her dairy, to make wondrous gain, finding, whereas some wicked beast unaware, that breaks into her darehouse, their doff drain, her creaming pans, and frustrate all her pain, that thing some snare or jing set close behind, entrapped him, and caught into her train, then thinks what punishment were best assigned, and thousand deaths devised in her vengeful mind. So did Diana, and her maidens all, use silly fawness, now within their bail, they mocked, and scorn him, and him foul miscall, some by the nose him plucked, some by the tail, and by his goatish beard some did him hail, yet he, poor soul, with patience all did bear, for nought against their wills might countervail, nigh ought he said whatever he did hear, but hanging down his head did like a mom appear. At length, when they had floated him their fill, they began to cast what penance him to give, some would have gelt him, but that same would spill the wood god's breed, which must forever live. Others would, through the river, him have driv, and duck deep, but that seemed penance light, but most agreed, and did this sentence give. Him in dear skin declared, and in that plight, to hunt him with their hounds, himself save how he might. But Cynthia's self, more angry than the rest, thought not enough to punish him in sport, but of her shame to make against some jest, and can examine him in straight assault, which of her nymphs, or other close consort, him thither brought, and her to him betrayed. He much afeard, to her confessed short, that was Milana, which her sober rate, and all at once their hands upon Milana laid. But him, according as they had decreed, with a dear skin they covered, and then chased with all their hounds, that after him did speed, but he more speedy, from them fled more fast, than any deers, so saw him dread aghast. They after followed all with shrill outcry, shouting as they the heavens would have brassed, that all the woods and dails where he did fly, did ring again, and loud re-echo to the sky. So they him followed, till they weary were, when back returning to Milana again, and by commandment of Diana there, her wellmed with stones, yet fawn us for her pain, of her beloved fan she did obtain, that her he would receive unto his bed. So now her waves passed through a pleasant plain, till with the fortune she herself do wed, and both combined themselves in one fair river spread. Nevertheless Diana, full of indignation, thenceforth abandoned her delicious brook, in whose sweet stream before that bad occasion, so much delight to bathe her lins she took, not only her but also quite forsook, all those fair forests about Arlo hid, and all that mountain, which doth overlook, the richest champion that may else be rid, and the fair sure in which a thousand salmon spread. Them all, and all that she, so dear, did weigh, thenceforth she left, and parting from the place, thereon a heavy hapless cursed delay to wait, that wolves, where she was want to space, should harboured be, and all those woods deface, and thieves should rob and spoil that coast around, since which, those woods, and all that goodly chase, doth to this day with wolves and thieves abound, which too, too true, that lands in dwellers since have found. End of Canto Six, Book Seven, The Cantos of Mutability. Recording by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com Book Seven, Canto Seven, The Cantos of Mutability. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com The Fairy Queen by Edmund Spencer. Book Seven, The Cantos of Mutability. Canto Seven, Pealing from Jove to Nature's Bar, bold alteration pleads, large evidence, but nature soon, her righteous doom are reads. Ah, with a doest thou now, thou great amuse, me from these woods and pleasing forests spring, and my frail spirit that doth oft refuse, this too high flight unfit for her weak wing, lift up aloft, to tell of heaven's king, thy sovereign sire, his fortunate success, and victory in bigger notes to sing, which he obtained against that tightness that him of heaven's empire sought to dispossess. Yet sith I needs must follow thy behest, do thou my weaker wit with skill inspire, fit for this tune, and in my sable breast, kindle for sparks of that immortal fire, which learned minds in flameth with desire of heavenly things, for who but thou alone, that art inborn of heaven and heavenly sire, can tell things dune in heaven so long ago, so far past memory of man that may be known. Now at that time that was before agreed that gods assembled all on Arlo hill, as well those that are sprung with heavenly seed, as those that all the other world do feel, and rule both sea and land unto their will, only the infernal powers might not appear, as well for horror of their countenance ill, as for the unruly things which they did fear, yet Pluto and Proserbina were present there. And if there also came all other creatures, whatever life or motion do retain, according to their sundry kinds of features, that Arlo scarcely could them all contain, so full they filled every hill and plain, and had not nature's sergeant at his order, them well disposed by his busy pain, and ranged far abroad in every border, there would have caused much confusion and disorder. Then forth pursued great goddess, great dame nature, with goodly port and gracious majesty, being far greater and more tall of statue, than any of the gods or powers on he, yet certies by her face and physnomy, whether she man or woman inly were, that could not any creature well describe, for with a veil that wimpled everywhere, her head and face was hid, that moat to known appear. But some do say, was so by skill devised, to hide the terror of her uncouth hue, from mortal eyes that should be sore aggrized, for that her face did like a lion shoe, that eye of white could not endure to view. But others tell, that it so beauties was, and round about such beams of splendor through, that it the sun a thousand times did pass, and he could be seen, but like an image in a glass. This well may seem untrue, for well I wean, that this same day, when she on Arlo sat, her garment was so bright and wondrous sheen, that my frail wit cannot devise to what it to compare, nor find like stuff to that, as those three sacred saints, though else most wise, yet on mount Tabor quite their wits forget, when they their glorious lord in strange disguise, transfigured sore his garments, so did days their eyes. In a fair plain upon an equal hill, she placed was in a pavilion, not such as craftsmen by their idle skill, a want for princes states to fashion, but the earth herself of her own motion, out of her fruitful bosom made to grow, most dainty trees, that shooting up anon, did seem to bow their blossoming heads full low, for homage unto her, and like a throne did show. So hard it is for any living white, all who array in vestiments to tell, but old Dan Geffrey, in whose gentle sprite the pure well head of Posey did dwell, in his vows parley durst not with it mel, but it transferred to Alan, whom he thought, had in his plain of kinds described it well, which who will read said forth so as it ought, go seek he out that Alan where he may be sought. And all the earth far underneath her feet was diet with flowers that voluntary grew, out of the ground and sent forth odours sweet, ten thousand moors of sundry scent and hue, that might delight the smell or please the view, the witch, the nymphs, from all the brooks thereby, had gathered which they at her foot still threw, that richer seemed than any tapestry, that princes bowers adorn with painted imagery. And while himself, to honour her the more, did deck himself in freshest fair attire, and his high head, that seamoth always whore, with hard and frosts of former winter's eye, he with an oaken girl-eyed now attire, as if the love of some new nymph late seen, had in him kindled youthful fresh desire, and made him change his grey attire to green. Ah, gentle mole, such joints hath thee well be seen. Was never so great a joint since the day that all the gods willome assembled were, on Homer's hill in their divine array, to celebrate the solemn bride of cheer, to expellius and dame Theetus pointed there, where Thebus self, that god of poet's height, they say did sing the spousal hymn full clear, that all the gods were ravished with delight of his celestial song, and music's wondrous might. This great grandmother of all creatures bred, great nature, ever young yet full of old, still moving, yet unmoved from her stead, unseen of any, yet of all beheld, for sitting in her throne, as I have tell'd, before her came dame mutability, and being low before her presence fell'd, with meek obeisance and humility, thus gain her plaintive plea with words to amplify. To thee, O greatest goddess, only great and humble, suppliant, low I lowly fly, seeking for right, which I of thee entreat, who right to all dost deal indifferently, damning all wrong and torturous injury, which any of thy creatures do to other, oppressing them with power unequally, sith of them all thou art the equal mother, and knitst each to each, as brother unto brother. To thee, therefore, of this same jove I plain, and of his fellow gods, that fame to be, that challenge to themselves, the whole world's reign, of which the greatest part is due to me, and heaven itself by heritage in thee, for heaven and earth I both alike do deem, sith heaven and earth I both alike to thee, and gods no more than men thou doest esteem, or even the gods to thee, as men to gods do seem. Then, way, O sovereign goddess, by what right these gods do claim the world's whole sovereignty, and that is only due unto thy might, arrogate to themselves ambitiously, as for the gods' own principality, which jove usurps unjustly, that to be my heritage, jove's self cannot deny, from my great grand sire titan unto me, derived by due descent, as is well known to thee. Yet, morga jove, and all his gods beside, I do possess the world's most regiment, as if he pleases it into parts divide, and every parts in holders too convent, shall to your eyes appear incontinent, and first the earth, great mother of us all, that only seems unmoved and permanent, none too mutability not fraught, yet she is changed in part, an eek in general. For all that from her springs and izzy bread, however fair it flourish for a time, yet see we soon decay, and being dead, to turn again unto their earthly slimes, yet out of their decay and mortal crime, we daily see new creatures to arise, and of their winter spring another prime, unlike in form, and changed by strange disguise, so turn they still about, and change in restless wise. As for her tenants, that is man and beasts, the beasts we daily see massacre die, as thralls and vassals unto men's beheasts, and men themselves do change continually, from youth to ill, from wealth to poverty, from good to bad, from bad to worst of all, nor do their bodies only flit and fly, but eek their minds, which they immortal call, still change in very thoughts as new occasions fall. Nears the water in more constant case, whether those same on high or these below, the ocean move at still from place to place, and every river still doth ebb and flow, ne' any lake that seems most still and slow, ne' peal so small that can his smoothness hold, when any wind doth under heaven blow, with which the clouds are also tossed and rolled, now like great hills and straight like sluices them unfold. So likewise are all watery living whites still tossed and turned with continual change, never abiding in their steadfast plights, the fish still floating do at random range, and never rest, but ever more exchange their dwelling places as the streams then carry, ne' have the watery fowls a certain range, ruin to rest, ne' in one stead do tarry, but flitting still do fly, and still their places vary. Next is the air, which who feels not by sense, for of all sense it is the middle mean, to flit still and with subtle influence of his thin spirit all creatures to maintain, in state of life, a weak life, that does lean on things so tickle as the unsteady air, which every hour is changed and altered clean, with every blast that bloweth foul or fair, the fair doth it prolong, the foul doth it impair. Therein the change is infinite behold, which to her creatures every minute chance, now boiling hot, straight freezing deadly cold, now fair sunshine that makes all skip and dance, straight bitter storms and baleful countenance, that makes them all to shiver and to shake, rain, hail and snow do pay them sad penance, and dreadful thunder-claps that make them quake, with flames and flashing lights that thousand changes make. Last is the fire, which though it live for ever, ye can be quenched quite, yet every day we see his parts, so soon as they do sever, to lose their heat and shortly to decay, so makes himself his own consuming prey, ne' any living creatures doth he breed, but all that are of others bred doth slay, and with their death his cruel life doth feed, not living but their barren ashes without seed. Thus all these foul, the which the groundwork be of all the world, and of all living whites, to thousand sorts of change we subject see, yet are they changed by other wondrous slights into themselves and lose their native might. The fire to air, the air to water shear, and water into earth, yet water fights, with fire and air with earth approaching near, yet all are in one body, and as one appear. So in them all reigns mutability, however these, that gods themselves do call, of them do claim the rule and sovereignty as vester of the file athrial, Vulcan of this with us so usual, Ops of the earth and Juno of the air, Neptune of seas and nymphs of rivers all, for all those rivers to me subject are, and all the rest which they usurp be all my share. Which to approve and true, as I have told, vouchsafe, O goddess, to thy presence call, the rest which do the world in being hold as times and seasons of the year that form of all the which demand in general, or judge thyself by verdict of thine eye, whether to me they are not subject all, nature did yield thereto, and by and by, bade order call them all before her majesty. So forth issued the seasons of the year, first lusty spring, all dieting leaves of flowers, that freshly budded and new blossoms did bear, in which a thousand birds had built their boughs, that sweetly sung, to call forth paramours, and in his hand a javelin he did bear, and on his head, as fit for warlike stores, a gilt engraven morion he did wear, that as some did him love, so others did him fear. Then came the jolly summer, being dyed in a thin, silken, cassock colored green, that was unlined all, to be more light, and on his head a gurloined well be seen he wore, from which as he had choft been, the sweat did drop, and in his hand he bore, a bow and sharts, as he and forest green, had hunted late the livid or the bore, and now would bathe his limbs with labour heated sore. Then came the autumn, all in yellow clad, as though he joyed in his plentious store, laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad, that he had banished hunger, which to fore, had by the belly oft him pinched sore, upon his head, a wreath that was enrolled, with ears of corn of every sort he bore, and in his hand a sickle heated whole, to reap the ripened fruits, the which the earth had yul. Lastly came winter, clothed all in frizz, chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill, whilst on his hoary head his breath did freeze, and the dull drops that from his purple bill, as from a limbic did a down distill, in his right hand a tipped staff he held, with which his feeble steps he stag'd still, for he was faint with cold, and weak with eld, that scarce his loosed limbs he hable was to world. These marching softly, thus in order went, and after them the months of riding came, first sturdy march, with brows full sternly bent, and armed strongly rode upon a ramp, the same which over health's spontaneous swam, and in his hand a spade he also hinted, and in a bag all sorts of seeds he sang, which on the earth he strode as he went, and filled her womb with fruitful hope of nourishment. Next came fresh April, full of lusty head, and wanton as a kid whose horn knew buds upon a bull he rode, the same which led Europa floating through the argolic floods, his horns were gilden all with golden studs, and garnished with garlands, goodly dyed, of all the fairest flowers and freshest buds, which the earth brings forth, and wet he seemed in sight, with waves through which he waded for his love's delight. Then came Fair May, the fairest maid on ground, decked all with dainties of her season's pride, and throwing flowers out of a lap around, upon two brethren's shoulders she did ride, the twins of Leda, which on either side, supported her like to their sovereign queen. Lord, how all creatures laughed when her they spied, and leapt and danced, as they had ravished been, and cupid self about her fluttered all in green. And after her came Jolly June, a raid all in green leaves, as he a player were, yet in his time he wrought as well as played, that by his plough-iron's moat right well appear. Upon a crab he rode, that him did bear, with crooked crawling steps and uncouth pace, and backward rode, as bargemen want to fare, bending their force contrary to their face, like that ungracious crew, which feigned demurrest grace. Then came Hot July, boiling light to fire, at all his garments he had cast away, upon a lion raging yet with ire, he boldly rode and made him to obey. It was the beast that Wilhelm did foray, the neemian forest, till the Amphrotronidae, in slew and with his hide, did him array, behind his back aside, and by his side, under his belt, he bore a sickle circling wide. The sixth was August, being rich arrayed, in garment all of gold, down to the ground, yet rode he not, but led a lovely maid, forth by the lily hand, the which was crowned, with ears of corn, and full her hand was found, that was the righteous virgin, which evolved, lived here on earth, and plenty made abound, but after wrong was loved and justice sold, she left the unrighteous world, and was to heaven extolled. Next him, September, marched, eek on foot, yet was he heavy laden, with the spoil of harvest's riches, which he made his boot, and him enriched with bounty of the soil, in his one hand as fit for harvest's toil. He held a knife hook, and in the other hand, a pair of weights, with which he did a soil both more and less, where it in doubt did stand, and equal gave to each as justice duly scanned. And came October, full of merry glee, for yet his knoll was totty of the must, which he was treading in the wine-fat sea, and of the joyous oil, whose gentle gust made him so frolic and so full of lust, upon the dreadful scorpion he did ride. The same which by Diana's doom unjust, slew great Orion, and eek by his side, he had his plowing share, and colt already tied. Next was November, he full gross and fat as fed with lard, and that right well might seem, for he had been a fatting hogs of late, that yet his brows with sweat did reek and steam, and yet the season was full sharp and brim. In planting eek he took no small delight, for on he rode. Not easy was to deem, for it a dreadful centur was in sight, the seed of satin, and fair nace, Chiron height. And after him came next the chill December, yet he through merry feasting which he made, and great bonfires did not the cold remember, his save his birth, his mind so much did glad, upon a shaggy bearded goat he rode. The same were with Jan Jo, in tender years, they say, was nourished by the Indian maid, and in his hand a broad deep bowl he bears, of which he freely drinks and health to all his peers. And came, O January, wrapped well in many wheats to keep the cold away, yet did he quake and quiver like to quell and blow his nails to warm them if he may, for they were numbed withholding all the day, and hatched keen, with which he felled wood, and from the trees did lock the needles spray. Upon a huge great earth pot steen he stood, from whose wide mouth they flowed forth the Roman flood. And lastly came cold February sitting in unold wagon, for he could not ride, drawn of two fishes for the season fitting, which through the flood before did softly slide, and swim away, yet had he by his side, his plough and harness fit to till the ground, and tools to prune the trees before the pride. The hasting prime didn't make them burgeon round, so passed the twelve months forth, and their due places found. And after these there came the day and night, riding together both with equal pace, the one on a pulfry black, the other white, that night had covered her uncomely face, with her black veil, and held in hand a mace. On top were off the moon and stars were pite, and sleep and darkness round about did trace. But day did bear, upon his scepter's height, the goodly sun, encompassed all with beams bright. And came the hours, fair daughters of high joe, and timely night, the which were all endued, with wondrous beauty fit to kindle love. But they were virgins all, and love is stewed, that might for slack the charge to them for shooed by mighty joe. It did them porters make of heaven's gate, whence all the gods issued, which they did daily watch and nightly wake, by even turns, and he ever did their charge for sake. And after all came life, and lastly death, death, with most grim and grisly visage seen. It is inought but parting of the breath, the odd to see, but like a shade to win, unbodied, unsold, unheard, unseen. But life was like a fair young lusty boy, such as they feigned and cupid to have been, full of delightful health and lively joy, decked all with flowers, and wings of gold fit to employ. When these were passed, thou scan the tightness, lo, mighty mother, now be judge and say, whether in all thy creatures more or less changed, of not reign and bear the greatest sway. For who sees not that time on all doth pray? But times do change, and move continually, so nothing here long standeth in one's day, wherefore this lower world who can deny, but to be subject still to mutability. Then thou scan joe. Right true it is that these, and all things else that under heaven dwell, are changed of time, who doth them all deceased of being. But who is it, to me tell, that time himself doth move and still compel to keep his course, is not that namely we, which pour that virtue from our heavenly cell, that moves them all and makes them changed be, so them we gods do rule, and in them also thee. To whom thus mutability, the things which we see not how they are moved and swayed, may attribute to yourselves as kings, and say they by your secret power are made, but what we see not, who shall us persuade? But were they so, as ye then feigned to be, moved by your might, and ordered by your aid, yet what if I can prove that even ye yourselves are likewise changed and subject unto me? And first, concerning her that is the first, even you fair Cynthia, whom so much she make, Jove's dearest darling, she was bred a nurse on Synthesis Hill, whence she her name did take, then is she mortal born, how so ye crake? Besides, her face and countenance every day we changed see, and sundry forms partake, now horned, now round, now bright, now brown and gray, so that as changeful as the moon, men used to say. Next Mercury, who though he less appear to change his hue and always seem as one, yet he his course doth alter every year, and is of late far out of order gone, so Venusique, that goodly paragon, though fair all night, yet is she dark all day, and fever self, who lights them is alone, it is he oft eclipsed by the way, and fills the darkened world with terror and dismay. Now Mars, that valiant man is changed most, for he sometimes so far runs out of square, that he his way doth seem quite to have lost, and clean without his usual sphere to fare, that even these stargazers astonished her, at sight thereof, and damn their lying books, so likewise grim sir Saturn oft doth spare his stern aspect, and calm his crabed looks, so many turning cranks these have so many crooks. But you, Dan Jove, that only constant are and king of all the rest, as ye do claim, are you not subjecteak to this misfair? Then let me ask you this without and blame, where were ye born? Some say in creed by name, others and thieves, and others other where, but wheresoever they comment the same, they all consent that ye begotten were, and born here in this world, the other can appear. Then are ye mortal born, and thrall to me, unless the kingdom of the sky ye make immortal, and unchangeable to be? Besides, that power and virtue which ye spake that ye hear work doth many changes take, and your own nature's change, for each of you, that virtue have, or this, or that to make, is checked and changed from his nature true by others' opposition, or of liquid view. Besides, the sundry motions of your spheres, so sundry ways and fashions as clerks feign, some in short space and some in longer years, what is the same but alteration plain? Only the starry sky doth still remain, yet do the stars and signs therein still move, and even itself is moved, as wizards say, But all that knew doth mutation love, therefore both you and them to me, I subject prude. And since within this wide great universe, nothing doth firm and permanent appear, but all things tossed and turned by transverse, what then should let but I aloft should rear my trophy, and from all the triumph bear? Now judge then, O thou greatest God is true, according as thyself doth see and hear, and unto me a doom that is my due, that is the rule of all, all being ruled by you. So having ended, silence long ensued, in nature too, or froes, spake for a space, but with firm eyes affixed, the ground still viewed, meanwhile all creatures, looking in her face, expecting the end of this so doubtful case, did hang in long suspense what would ensue, to where the side should fall the sovereign place at length, she looking up with cheerful view the silence break, and gave her doom in speeches few. I well consider all that ye have said, and find that all things steadfastness do hate, and changed be, yet being rightly weighed, they are not changed from their first estate, but by their change their being do dilate, and turning to themselves at length again, do work their own perfection so by fate, then over them changed doth not rule and reign, but they reign over change, and do their states maintain. Cease therefore, daughter, further to aspire, and thee content thus to be ruled by me, for thy decay thou seekst by thy desire, but time shall come that all shall change, and from thence forth none no more change shall see. So was the tightness put down, and wist, and jove confirmed in his imperial sea, then was that whole assembly quite dismissed, and nature's self did vanish, wither no man wist. End of Canto 7. Book 7, The Cantos of Mutability. End of The Fairy Queen. Recording by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com. Book 7, Canto 8. The Cantos of Mutability. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Morgan Scorpion. The Fairy Queen by Edmund Spencer. Book 7, The Cantos of Mutability. Canto 8. When I rethink me on that speech while ye are of mutability, and while it way, me seems that though she all unworthy were of the heavens rule, yet very sooth to say in all things else she bears the greatest sway, which makes me loathe this state of life so tickle, and love of things so vain to cast away, whose flowering pride, so fading and so fickle, short time shall soon cut down with his consuming sickle. Then can I think on that which nature said, of that same time when no more change shall be, but steadfast rest of all things firmly stayed upon the pillars of eternity, that is contrar to mutability. For all that moveth, doth in change delight, but thenceforth all shall rest eternally, with him that is the God of Savarth height, although great Savarth God grant me that Savarth sight. End of Canto 8, Book 7. The Cantos of Mutability. End of Book 7. End of the Fairy Queen by Edmund Spencer.