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Thus being enter'd, they behold around

In her left hand a cup of gold she held, A large and spacious plain, on every side

And with her right the riper fruit did reach, Strewed with pleasances; whose fair grassy ground, Whose sappy liquor, that with fullness swell’d, Mantled with green, and goodly beautified Into her cup she scruzed with dainty breach With all the ornaments of Flora's pride,

Of her fine fingers, without foul empeach Wherewith her mother Art, as half in scorn That so fair wine-press made the wine more sweet: Of niggard Nature, like a pompous bride,

Thereof she used to give to drink to each, Did deck her, and too lavishly adorn,

Whom passing by she happened to meet : When forth from virgin bow'r she comes in th' It was her guise all strangers goodly so to greet.

early morn.

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So she to Guyon offer'd it to taste :

And all the margent round about was set Who, taking it out of her tender hand,

With shady laurel trees, thence to defend The cup to ground did violently cast,

The sunny beams which on the billows beat, That all in pieces it was broken fond,

And those which therein bathed mote offend. And with the liquor stained all the land :

As Guyon happen’d by the same to wend, Whereat Excess exceedingly was wroth,

Two naked damsels he therein espied, Yet no'te the same amend, ne yet withstand, Which therein bathing, seemed to contend But suffered him to pass, all were she lothe, And wrestle wantonly, ne cared to hide Who, nought regarding her displeasure, forward Their dainty parts from view of any which them eyed.

goeth. There the most dainty paradise on ground

As that fair star, the messenger of morn, Itself doth offer to his sober eye,

His dewy face out of the sea doth rear ; In which all pleasures plenteously abound, Or as the Cyprian goddess, newly born And none does other's happiness envy ;

Of th' ocean's fruitful froth, did first appear : The painted flowers, the trees upshooting high ; Such seemed they, and so their yellow heare The dales for shade, the hills for breathing space ; Crystalline humour dropped down apace; That trembling groves, the crystal running by ;

Whom such when Guyon saw, he drew him near, And that which all fair works doth most aggrace,

And somewhat 'gan relent his earnest pace ; The art, which all that wrought, appeared in no His stubborn breast 'gan secret pleasaunce to place.

embrace.

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One would have thought, (so cunningly the rude On which when gazing him the palmer saw, And scorned parts were mingled with the fine,) He much rebuked those wand’ring eyes of his, That Nature had for wantonness ensude

And, counsell'd well, him forward thence did draw. !! Art, and that Art at Nature did repine ;

Now are they come nigh to the Bower of Bliss, So striving each th' other to undermine,

Of her fond favourites so named amiss; Each did the other's work more beautify,

When thus the palmer : “Now, Sir, well avise, So differing both in wills agreed in fine :

For here the end of all our travel is ; So all agreed, through sweet diversity,

Here wonnes Acrasia, whom we must surprise, This garden to adorn with all variety.

Else she will slip away, and all our drift despise.” And in the midst of all a fountain stood,

Eftsoons they heard a most melodious sound, Of richest substance that on the earth might be,

Of all that mote delight a dainty ear, So pure and shiny, that the silver flood

Such as at once might not on living ground, Through every channel running one might see : Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere : Most goodly it with curious imagery

Right hard it was for wight which did it hear, Was over-wrought, and shapes of naked boys,

To rede wbat manner music that mote be ; Of which some seem’d, with lively jollity,

For all that pleasing is to living ear, To fly about, playing their wanton toys,

Was there consorted in one harmony ; Whilst others did themselves embay in liquid joys. Birds, voices, instruments, winds, waters, all agree. And over all of purest gold was spread

The joyous birds, shrouded in cheerful shade,

Their notes unto the voice attemper'd sweet ; A trayle of ivy in his native hue; For the rich metal was so coloured,

Th' angelical soft trembling voices made

To th' instruments divine respondence meet ; That wight, who did not well advised it view, Would surely deem it to be ivy true :

The silver-sounding instruments did meet Low his lascivious arms adown did creep,

With the base murmur of the water's fall; That themselves, dipping in the silver dew

The water's fall with difference discreet, Their fleecy flowers, they fearfully did steep,

Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call ; Which drops of crystal seem'd for wantonness to

The gentle warbling wind low answered to all. weep.

GLAUCE AND BRITOMART EXPLORING THE CAVE OF MERLIN.

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Infinite streams continually did well
Out of this fountain, sweet and fair to see,
The which into an ample laver fell,
And shortly grew to so great quantity,
That like a little lake it seem'd to be,
Whose depth exceeded not three cubits height,
That through the waves one might the bottom see,
All paved beneath with jasper, shining bright,
That seem'd the fountain in that sea did sail

upright.

Full many ways within her troubled mind
Old Glauce cast to cure this lady's grief ;
Full many ways she sought, but none could find,
Nor herbs, nor charms, nor counsel, that is chief
And choicest med'cine for sick heart's relief;
Forthy great care she took, and greater fear.
Least that it should her turn to foul reprief,
And sore reproach, whenso her father dear [hear.
Should of his dearest daughter's hard misfortune

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At last she her advised, that he which made For he by words could call out of the sky
That mirror wherein the sick damosel

Both sun and moon, and make them him obey;
So strangely viewed her strange lover's shade, The land to sea, and sea to mainland dry,
To weet the learned Merlin, well could tell And darksome night he eke could turn to day;
Under what coast of heaven the man did dwell, Huge hosts of men he could alone dismay,
And by what means his love might best be wrought; And hosts of men of meanest things could frame,
For though beyond the Afric Ismael,

Whenso him list his enemies to fray ; Or th’ Indian Peru he were, she thought

That to this day, for terror of his fame,
Him forth through infinite endeavourto have sought. The fiends do quake when any him to them does name.
Forthwith themselves disguising both in strange And sooth men say, that he was not the son
And base attire, that none might them bewray, Of mortal sire, or other living wight,
To Maridunum, that is now by change

But wond'rously begotten and begone
Of name Cayr-Merdin call?d, they took their way; By false illusion of a guileful sprite
There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say) On a fair lady nun, that whilom hight
To make his wonne, low underneath the ground, Matilda, daughter to Pubidius,
In a deep delve, far from the view of day; Who was the lord of Mathtraval by right,
That of no living wight he mote be found,

And cousin unto king Ambrosius, Whenso he counsell’d, with his sprites encompass'd Whence he enduëd was with skill so marvellous. round.

They here arriving, stay'd awhile without, And if thou ever happen that same way

Ne durst adventure rashly in to wend, To travel, go to see that dreadful place :

But of their first intent ’gan make new doubt It is an hideous hollow cave (they say)

For dread of danger, which it might portend, Under a rock that lies a little space

Until the hardy maid (with love to friend) From the swift Barry, tumbling down apace

First entering, the dreadful mage there found Amongst the woody hills of Dynevowre :

Deep busied 'bout work of wond'rous end, But dare thou not, I charge, in any case,

And writing strange characters in the ground, To enter into that same baleful bower,

With which the stubborn fiends he to his service For fear the cruel fiends should thee unwares

[bound. devour.

BELPHOEBE FINDS TIMIAS WOUNDED, AND CONBut standing high aloft, low lay thine ear,

VEYS HIM TO HER DWELLING.
And there such ghastly noise of iron chains,
And brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear,
Which thousand sprites, with long-enduring She on a day, as she pursued the chace
pains,

Of some wild beast, which, with her arrows keen,
Do toss, that it will stun thy feeble brains ; She wounded had, the same along did trace
And oftentimes great groans and grievous stounds, By tract of blood, which she had freshly seen
When too huge toil and labour them constrains,

To have besprinkled all the grassy green ; And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds, By the great pùrsue which she there perceived, From under that deep rock most horribly re Well hoped she the beast engored had been, bounds.

And made more haste the life to have bereaved;

But ah ! her expectation greatly was deceived. The cause, some say, is this : a little while Before that Merlin died, he did intend

Shortly she came whereas that woeful squire, A brazen wall in compass to compile

With blood deformed, lay in deadly swound ; About Cairmardin, and did it commend

In whose fair eyes, like lamps of quenched fire, Unto these sprites to bring to perfect end ; The crystal humour stood congealed round; During which work the Lady of the Lake,

His locks, like faded leaves, fallen to ground, Whom long he loved, for him in haste did send, Knotted with blood, in bunches rudely ran, Who thereby forced his workmen to forsake, And his sweet lips, on which, before that stound, Them bound till his return their labour not to The bud of youth to blossom fair began, slake.

Spoil'd of their rosy red, were waxen pale and wan. In the mean time, through that false lady's train, Saw never living eye more heavy sight, He was surprised and buried under bier,

That could have made a rock of stone to rue Ne ever to his work return'd again ;

Or rive in twain ; which when that lady bright Nathless those fiends may not their work forbear, Besides all hope, with melting eyes did view, So greatly his commandement they fear,

All suddenly abash'd, she changed hue, But there do toil and travail day and night, And with stern horror backward ʼgan to start ; Until that brazen wall they up do rear ;

But when she better him beheld, she grew For Merlin had in magic more insight

Full of soft passion and unwonted smart ; Than ever him before or after living wight. The point of pity pierced through her tender heart.

BOOK III.

CANTO V.

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Meekly she bowed down, to weet if life

By this her damsels, which the former chace Yet in his frozen members did remain,

Had undertaken after her, arrived, And feeling by his pulse's beating rife

As did Belphoebe, in the bloody place, That the weak soul her seat did yet retain, And thereby deem'd the beast had been deprived She cast to comfort him with busy pain.

Of life whom late their lady's arrow rived ; His double-folded neck she rear'd upright, Forthy the bloody tract they follow'd fast, And rubb’d his temples and each trembling vein; And every one to run the swiftest striv'd; His mailed haberjon she did undight,

But two of them the rest far overpast, And from his head his heavy burganet did light. And where their lady was arrived at the last. Into the woods thenceforth in haste she went, Where, when they saw that goodly boy with blood To seek for herbs that mote him remedy,

Defouled, and their lady dress his wound, For she of herbs had great intendiment,

They wonder'd much, and shortly understood Taught of the nymph which from her infancy How him in deadly case their lady found, Her nursed had in true nobility;

And rescued out of the heavy stound : There, whether it divine tobacco were,

Eftsoons his warlike courser, which was stray'd Or panacea, or polygony,

Far in the woods, whiles that he lay in swownd, She found, and brought it to her patient dear, She made those damsels search; which being stay'd, Who all this while lay bleeding out his heart-blood | They did him set thereon, and forthwith them con

vey'd. The sovereign weed, betwixt two marbles plain, Into that forest far they thence him led, She pounded small, and did in pieces bruise, Where was their dwelling, in a pleasant glade, And then atween her lily handės twain

With mountains round about environed, Into his wound the juice thereof did scruze, And mighty woods which did the valley shade And round about (as she could well it use) And like a stately theatre it made. The flesh therewith she suppled and did steep, Spreading itself into a spacious plain ; T'abate all spasm, and soak the swelling bruise; And in the midst a little river play'd And after having search'd the intuse deep, Amongst the pumice stones, which seem'd to plain She with her scarf did bind the wound, from cold to With gentle murmur, that his course they did keep.

restrain.

near.

By this he had sweet life recur'd again.
And groaning inly deep, at last his eyes,
His watery eyes, drizzling like dewy rain,
He up 'gan lift toward the azure skies,
From whence descend all hopeless remedies :
Therewith he sighd ; and turning him aside,
The goodly maid, full of divinities,
And gifts of heavenly grace, he by him spied,
Her bow and gilden quiver lying him beside.

Beside the same a dainty place there lay,
Planted with myrtle trees and laurels green,
In which the birds sang many a lovely lay
Of God's high praise, and of their sweet lovesbteen,
As it an earthly paradise had been ;
In whose enclosed shadow there was pight
A fair pavilion, scarcely to be seen,
The which was all within most richly dight,
That greatest princes living it mote well delight.

“ Mercy, dear Lord !” said he,“ what grace is this Thither they brought that wounded squire, and laid
That thou hast shewed to me, sinful wight, In easy couch his feeble limbs to rest :
To send thine angel from her bower of bliss He rested him a while, and then the maid
To comfort me in my distressed plight ?

His ready wound with better salves new drest; Angel, or goddess, do I call thee right!

Daily she dressed him, and did the best What service may I do unto thee meet,

His grievous hurt to guarishư that she might, That hast from darkness me return’d to light,

That shortly he his dolour had redrest, And with thy heavenly salves and med'eines sweet And his foul sore reduced to fair plight; Hast drest my sinful wounds? I kiss thy blessed feet.”

It she reduced, but himself destroyed quite. Thereat she blushing said, “Ah! gentle Squire,

O foolish physic, and unfruitful pain, Nor goddess I, nor angel, but the maid

That heals up one, and makes another wound ; And daughter of a woody nymph, desire

She his hurt thigh to him recured again, No service but thy safety and aid,

But hurt his heart, the which before was sound, Which if thou gain, I shall be well apaid.

Through an unwary dart, which did rebound We mortal wights, whose lives and fortunes be From her fair eyes and gracious countenance : To common accidents still open laid,

What boots it him from death to be unbound, Are bound with common bond of frailty,

To be captived in ende less durànce
To succour wretched wights whom we captived of sorrow and despair without allegiance ?

see."

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Thus warted he long time against his will,
Till that through weakness he was forced at last
To yield himself unto the mighty ill,
Which as a victor proud ’gan ransack fast
His inward parts, and all his entrails waste,
That neither blood in face, nor life in heart,
It left, but both did quite dry up and blast,
As piercing levin, which the inner part
Of everything consumes, and càlcineth by art.
Which seeing, fair Belphebe 'gan to fear
Least that his wound were inly well not heal'd,
Or that the wicked steel empoison'd were ;
Little she ween'd that love he close conceal'd ;
Yet still he wasted, as the snow congeal'd,
When the bright sun his beams theron doth beat ;
Yet never he his heart to her reveal'd,
But rather chose to die for sorrow great,
Than with dishonourable terms her to entre

For, when as day the heaven doth adorn,
I wish that night the noyous day would end ;
And when as night hath us of light forlorn,
I wish that day would shortly reascend.
Thus I the time with expectation spend,
And fain my grief with changes to beguile,
That further seems his term still to extend,
And maketh every minute seem a mile.
So sorrow still doth seem too long to last,
But joyous hours do fly away too fast.

SONNET LXXXVIII.

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Like as the culver, on the bared bough,
Sits mourning for the absence of her mate,
And in her songs sends many a wishful vow
For his return that seems to linger late ;
So I alone, now left disconsolate,
Mourn to myself the absence of my Love,
And, wand'ring here and there, all desolate,
Seek with my plaints to match that mournful dove;
Ne joy of aught that under heaven doth hove,
Can comfort me but her own joyous sight,
Whose sweet aspect both God and man can move,
In her unspotted pleasuns to delight.
Dark is my day, whiles her fair light I miss,
And dead my life, that wants such lively bliss.

FROM SPENSER'S SONNETS.

SOXNET LXXXVI.

SINCE I did leave the presence of my love,
Many long weary days I have outworn,
And many nights that slowly seem'd to move
Their sad protract from evening until morn.

POETRY OF UNCERTAIN AUTHORS

OF

THE END OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

THE SOUL'S ERRAND.

FROM DAVISON'S “POETICAL RHAPSODY."

This bold and spirited poem has been ascribed that Joshua uses the beautiful original merely as to several authors, but to none on satisfactory a text, and has the conscience to print his own authority. It can be traced to MS. of a date as stuff in a way that shows it to be interpolated. early as 1593, when Francis Davison, who pub- Among those additions there occur some such lished it in his Poetical Rhapsody, was too young

execrable stanzas as the following: to be supposed, with much probability, to have

Say, soldiers are the sink written it; and as Davison's work was a compi

Of sin to all the realm, lation, his claims to it must be very doubtful.

Giv'n all to whore and drink, Sir Egerton Brydges has published it among Sir

To quarrel and blaspheme. Walter Raleigh's poems, but without a tittle of

Tell townsmen, that because that evidence to show that it was the production of

They prank their brides so proud, that great man. Mr. Ellis gives it to Joshua

Too many times it draws that Sylvester, evidently by mistake. Whoever looks

Which makes them beetle-brow'd. at the folio vol. of Sylvester's poems, will see

Ohe jam satis !

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