 Book 5, Canto 12, The Legend of Artigal. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, read by Carolyn Power. The Fairy Queen by Edmund Spencer. Book 5, Canto 12. Artigal doth Sir Bourbon aid and blames for changing shield. He with the great Grand Tortal fights and slayeth him in field. O sacred hunger of ambitious minds and impotent desire of men to reign, Whom neither dread of God but devils binds, nor laws of men that common wheels contain, Nor bands of nature that wild beasts restrain can keep from outrage and from doing wrong, Where they may hope a kingdom to obtain. No faith so firm, no trust can be so strong, No love so lasting then, that may endure on long. Witness may Bourbon be whom all the bands which may a night ashore had surely bound, Until the love of lordship and of lands made him become most faithless and own sound, And witness be Geronio found, who for like cause fair Beljated oppress, And right and wrong most cruelly confound, And so will be now Grand Tortal, Who no less than all the rest burst out to all outrageousness. Against whom, Sir Artigal, long having since taken in hand the exploit, Being there too appointed by that mighty Fairy Prince, Great Gloria that tyrant to fordue, through all other great adventures hitherto had it foreslap'd. But now, time drawing nigh, to him assigned her high behest to do, To the sea shore he gone his way apply, to wheat to shipping ready, he mowed there to scry. Though when they came to the sea coast they found a ship already, as good fortune fell, To put to sea with whom they did compound, to pass them over where them list to tell, The wind and weather served them so well, that in one day they with the coast had fall, Whereas they ready found them to repel great hosts of men in order marshal, Which then forbade to land, and footing did forestall. But neither more would they from land verfrane, but when his nigh unto the shore they drew, That foot of man might sound the bottom plain, talus unto the sea did forth issue, Though darts from shore and stones they atoned through, and wading through the waves would steadfast sway, Mogre the might of all those troops in view did win the shore, whence he them chased away, And made to fly like doves whom the eagle doth affray. The while Sir Artigal, with that old knight, did forth descend there being none them near, And forward marched to a town in sight, by this came tidings to the tyrant's ear, By those which ersted fly away for fear of their arrival, wherewith trouble sore, He all his forces straight to him did rear, and forth issuing with his scouts of fore, And meant them to have encountered ere they left the shore. But ere he marched far he with them met, and fiercely charged them with all his force, But talus sternly did upon them set, and brushed and battered them without remorse, That on the ground he left full many a course, nay any able was him to withstand, But he them overthrew both man and horse, that they lay scattered over all the land, As thick as doth the seed after the sore's hand. Till Artigal, him seeing so to rage, willed him to stay, and sign of truce did make, To which all harkening did a while as swage, their forces fury and their terror slake, Till he and herald called, and to him spake, Willing him wend unto the tyrant straight, And tell him that not for such slaughter's sake he thither came, But for to try the right of fair arena's cause with him in single fight. And willed him for to reclaim with speed his scattered people ere they all were slain, And time and place convenient to a reed, in which they too the combat might derain, Which message, when Grant Orto heard, full fame, and glad he was a slaughter so to stay, And pointed for the combat twix them twain, the morrow next knee gave him longer day, So sounded the retreat and drew his folk away. That night Sir Artigal did cause his tent there to be pitched on the open plain, For he had given straight commandment, that none should dare him once to entertain, Which none derest break, though many would write fame, For fair arena whom they lov'd dear. But yet old Sergis did so well him pain, That from closest friends that dared not to appear, He did all things pervay, which for them needful were. The morrow next, that was a dismal day, Appointed for Irena's death before, So soon as it did to the world display, His cheerful face and light to men restore, The heavy maid to whom none tied in spore, Of Artigal's arrival her to free, Look'd up with eyes full sad and heart full sore, Weaning her life's last hour then near to be, Sith no redemption nigh she did, nor hear nor see. Then up she rose, and on herself did dite, Most squalid garments fit for such a day, And with dull countenance and with dullful sprite, She forth was brought in sorrowful dismay, For to receive the doom of her decay. But coming to the place and finding there Ser Artigal in battleous array, Waiting his foe it did her dead heart cheer, And knew life to her lent in midst of deadly fear. Like as a tender rose in open plain, That with untimely drought nigh withered was, And hung the head soon as few drops of rain thereon distill, And due her dainty face, begins to look up, And with fresh-wanted grace, Desperates the glory of her leaves gay. Such was Irena's countenance, such her case, When Artigal she saw in that array, There waiting for the tyrant till it was far day. Who came at length with proud presumptuous gait, Into the field as if he fearless were, All armed in a coat of iron plate, Of great defence to war the deadly fear, And on his head a steel cap he did wear, Of colour rusty brown but sure and strong, And in his hand and huge pullax did bear, Whose steel was iron studded but not long, With which he want to fight to justify his wrong. Of stature huge and hideous he was, Like to a giant for his monstrous height, And did in strength most sorts of men's surpass, May ever any found his match in might. There too he had great skill in single fight, His face was ugly and his countenance stern, That could have frayed one with the very sight, And gaped like a gulf when he did gurn, That whether man or monster one could scarce discern. Soon as he did within the lists appear, With dreadful luck he Artigal beheld, As if he would have daunted him with fear, And grinning greasely did against him weld, His deadly weapon which in hand he held. But Delfin's swaying that oft had seen like sight, Was with his ghastly countenance nothing quelled, But gurn him straight to buckle to the fight, And cast his shield about to be in ready plight. The trumpet sound and they together go, With dreadful terror and with fel intent, And their huge strokes full dangerously bestow, To do most damage where as most they meant. But with such force and fury violent, The tyrant's thunder'd his thick blows so fast, That through the iron walls their way they rent, And even to the vital parts they past, Nay ought could them endure, but all they cleft or brass'd. Which cruel outrage, when as Artigal did well of eyes, Thenceforth with weary heed, he shunned his strokes wherever they did fall, And way did give unto their graceless speed. As when a skillful mariner doth read a storm approaching, That doth peril threat, he will not buy the danger of such dread, But strikes his sails and verits his mainsheet, And lends unto it leave the empty air to beat. So did the fairy knight himself a beer, And stooped off his head from shame to shield, No shame to stoop one's head more high to rear, And much to gain a little for to yield, So stoutest knights do often times infield. But still the tyrant's sternly at him laid, And did his iron axe so nimbly wield, That many wounds into his flesh it made, And with his bird-ness blows him sore did overlaid. Yet when as fit advantage he did spy, The wiles the cursed felon hide at rear, His cruel hand smite him mortally, Under his stroke he too him stepping near, Right in the flank him struck with deadly drear, That the gore-blood dense gushing grievously Did underneath him like a pond appear, And all his armour did with purple dye, There at he braided aloud, And yelled dreadfully. Yet the huge stroke which he before intended, Kept on his course as he did it direct, And with such monstrous poise a downed ascended, That seemed not could him from death protect, But he it well did ward with wise respect, And twixed him on the blow his shield did cast, Which thereon seizing took no great effect, But biting deep therein did stick so fast That by no means it back again he forth could rest. Long while he tugged and strove to get it out, And all his power applied thereon too, That he therewith the knight drew all about, Nonetheless, for all that ever he could do, His axe he could not from his shield undo, Which article perceiving struck no more, But loosing soon his shield did it forego, And whilst he cumbered was therewith so sore, He gannet him let drive more fiercely than a foar. So well he him pursued that at the last, He struck him with crissure on the head, That with the sause thereon full sore aghast, He staggered too and fro and doubtful stead. Again whilst he him saw so ill-bested, He did him smite with all his might and maim, That falling on his mother earth he fed, Whom when he saw prostrated on the plain, He quickly reft his head to ease him of his pain. Which when the people round about him saw, They shouted all for joy of his success, Glad to be quit from that proud tyrant's awe, Which with strong power did them long time oppress, And running all with greedy joyfulness, To fair arena at her feet did fall, And her adored with due humbleness, As their true lead and princess natural, And each her champion's glory sounded over all, Who straight her leading with meet majesty, Unto the palace where their kings did reign, Did her therein establish peaceably, And to her kingdom seat restore again, And all such persons as did late maintain The tyrant's part with close or open aid, He sorely punished with heavy pain, That in short space whilst there with her he stayed, Not one was left that durst her once had disobeyed. During which time that he did there remain, His study was true justice had to deal, And day and night employed his busy pain, How to reform that ragged common wheel, And that same iron man which could reveal all hidden crimes, Through all that realm he sent, To search out those that used to rob and steal, Or did rebel against lawful government, On whom he did inflict most grievous punishment. But ere he could reform it thoroughly, He through orcasian was called away, To fairy court that a necessity, His course of justice he was forced to say, And talus to revoke from the right way, In which he was that realm for to redress, But Envy's cloud still dimeth virtue's ray, So having freed arena from distress, He took his leave of her there left in heaviness. Though as he back returned from that land, And there arrived again whence forth he set, He had not passed far upon the strand, When as two old ill-favoured hags he met, By the wayside being together set, Two greasily creatures, And to that their faces, most foul and filthy were, Their garments yet, Being all writhed and tattered their disgraces, Did much this more augment, And made most ugly cases. Though one of them, that elder did appear, With her dull eyes did seem to look askew, That her mis-shape much helped, And her foul hair hung loose and loathsomely, There too her hue was wan and lean, That all her teeth a-rew, And all her bones my through her cheeks be read, Her lips were raw like leather, pale and blue, And as she spake their width she slaver'd, Yet spake she seldom but thought more the less she said. Her hands were foul and dirty never washed, In all her life with long nails overwrought, Like puttock's claws, with none of which she scrapped her cursed head, Although it itch'd not, the other held a snake with venom fraught, On which she fed and gnawed hungrily, As if that long she had not eaten ought, That round about her jaws one might describe The bloody gore and poison dropping loathsomely. Her name was Envy, no one well thereby, Whose nature is to grieve and grudge at all, That ever she sees doing praiseworthily, Whose sight to her is greatest cross may fall, And vexeth so that makes her eat her gall, For when she wanted the other thing to eat, She feeds on her own maw unnatural, And of her own foul entrails makes her meet, Meet fit for such a monstrous, monstrous diet. And if she hapt of any good to hear, That had to any happily be did, Then would she inly fret and grieve, And tear her flesh for felness, Which she inward hid, But if she heard of ill that any did, Or harm that any had, Then would she make great cheer, Like one unto a banquet bid, And in another's lost great pleasure take, As she had got thereby and gained a great stake. The other nothing better was than she Agreeing in bad will and cankerd kind, But in bad manner they did disagree, For what so Envy good or bad did find, She did conceal and murder her own mind, But this whatever evil she conceived Did spread about and throw in the open wind, Yet this in all her words might be perceived, That all she sought was men's good name to have bereaved. For what so ever good by any said, Or dune she heard, she would straightwise invent, How to deprave or slonderously upbraid, Or to misconstrue of a man's intent, And turn to ill the thing that well was meant. Therefore she used often to resort To common haunts and companies frequent, To hark what any one did good report, To blot the same with blame or rest in wicked sort. And if that any ill she heard of any, She would it eke and make much worse by telling, And take great joy to publish it to many, That every matter worse was for her milling. Her name was Hyde's detraction, And her dwelling was near to Envy, Even her neighbour next, a wicked Hyde, And Envy self-excelling in mischief. For herself she only vexed, But this same both herself and others eke perplexed. Her face was ugly and her mouth distort, Foaming with poison round about her gills, In which her cursed tongue full sharp and short, Appeared like aspen's sting that closely kills, Or cruelly does wound whom so she wills. At distaff in her other hand she held, Upon the which she little spins but spills, And feigns to weave false tales and leasings bad, To throw amongst the good which others had to sprout. These two now had themselves combined in one, And linked together against Sir Artigal, For whom they waited as his mortal foe, How they might make him into mischief foe, For freeing from their snares a reign of thrall, Besides unto themselves they got and had A monster which the blatant beast men call a dreadful.