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Between his canker'd teeth a venomous toad,
That all the poison ran about his jaw;
But inwardly he chawed his own maw

At neighbours' wealth, that made him ever sad;
For death it was, when any good he saw,
And wept, that cause of weeping none he had :
But when he heard of harm, he waxed wondrous glad.

All in a kirtle of discolour'd say

He clothed was, ypainted full of eyes;
And in his bosom secretly there lay
An hateful snake, the which his tail upties
In many folds, and mortal sting implies.
Still as he rode, he gnash'd his teeth to see
Those heaps of gold with gripple Covetise,
And grudged at the great felicity
Of proud Lucifera, and his own company.

He hated all good works and virtuous deeds,
And him no less that any like did use:
And who with gracious bread the hungry feeds,
His alms for want of faith he doth accuse;
So every good to bad he doth abuse:
And eke the verse of famous poets' wit
He does backbite, and spiteful poison spews
From leprous mouth, on all that ever writ:
Such one vile Envy was, that fifth in row did sit.

And him beside rides fierce revenging Wrath,
Upon a lion loth for to be led :

And in his hand a burning brand he hath,
The which he brandisheth about his head;
His eyes did hurl forth sparkles fiery red,
And stared stern on all that him beheld,
As ashes pale of hue and seeming dead;
And on his dagger still his hand he held,
Trembling through hasty rage, when choler in him

His ruffian raiment all was stain'd with blood
Which he had spilt, and all to rags yrent,
Through unadvised rashness waxen wood;
For of his hands he had no government,
Nor car'd for blood in his avengement:
But, when the furious fit was overpast,
His cruel acts he often would repent;
Yet wilful man he never would forecast,




THE wild wood gods, arrived in the place,
There find the virgin doleful desolate,
As her outrageous foe had left her late,
And trembling yet through fear of former hate;
All stand amazed at so uncouth sight,
And 'gin to pity her unhappy state.
All stand astonished at her beauty bright,
In their rude eyes unworthy of so woful plight.

She more amaz'd in double dread doth dwell;
And every tender part for fear does shake:
As when a greedy wolf through hunger fell
A silly lamb far from the flock does take,
Of whom he means his bloody feast to make,
A lion spies fast running towards him,
The innocent prey in haste he does forsake,
Which quit from death yet quakes in every limb
With change of fear, to see the lion look so grim.

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Their hearts she guesseth by their humble guise,
And yields her to extremity of time;

How many mischiefs should ensue his heedless haste. So from the ground she fearless doth arise,

Full many mischiefs follow cruel wrath;
Abhorred bloodshed, and tumultuous strife,
Unmanly murder, and unthrifty scath,
Bitter despight, with rancour's rusty knife,
And fretting grief, the enemy of life;
All these, and many evils more, haunt ire,
The swelling spleen, and phrenzy raging rife,
The shaking palsy, and Saint Francis' fire;
Such one was Wrath, the last of this ungodly tire.

And after all, upon the waggon beam
Rode Satan, with a smarting whip in hand,
With which he forward lash'd the lazy team,
So oft as Sloth still in the mire did stand;
Huge routs of people did about them band,
Shouting for joy, and still before their way
A foggy mist had covered all the land;
And underneath their feet all scatter'd lay

And walketh forth without suspect of crime:
They all, as glad as birds of joyous prime,
Thence lead her forth, about her dancing round,
Shouting and singing all a shepherd's rhime,
And with green branches strewing all the ground,
Do worship her as queen, with olive garland crown'd;

And all the way their merry pipes they sound,
That all the woods with double echo ring,
And with their horned feet do wear the ground,
Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant spring.
So towards old Sylvanus they her bring;
Who, with the noise awaked, cometh out,
To weet the cause, his weak steps governing,
And aged limbs on cypress stadle stout,
And with an ivy twine his waist is girt about.

Far off he wonders what them makes so glad,
If Bacchus' merry fruit they did invent,


Dead sculls and bones of men, whose life had gone | Or Cybele's frantic rites have made them mad;


They, drawing nigh, unto their god present
That flower of faith and beauty excellent.
The god himself, viewing that mirror rare,
Stood long amaz'd, and burnt in his intent;
His own fair Driope now he thinks not fair,

And Pholoe foul, when her to this he doth compare.

The wood-born people fall before her flat,
And worship her as goddess of the wood;
And old Sylvanus' self bethinks not what
To think of wight so fair, but gazing stood,
In doubt to deem her born of earthly brood;
Sometimes dame Venus' self he seems to see:
But Venus never had so sober mood;
Sometimes Diana he her takes to be,

So long in secret cabin there he held
Her captive to his sensual desire,
Till that with timely fruit her belly swell'd,
And bore a boy unto that savage sire:
Then home he suffer'd her for to retire,
For ransom leaving him the late born child;
Whom till to riper years he gan aspire,
He nursed up in life and manners wild, [exil'd.
Amongst wild beasts and woods, from laws of men

For all he taught the tender imp was but
To banish cowardice and bastard fear;
His trembling hand he would him force to put
Upon the lion, and the rugged bear,

And from the she-bear's teats her whelps to tear;

But misseth bow, and shafts, and buskins to her knee. And eke wild roaring bulls he would him make

By view of her he ginneth to revive
His ancient love, and dearest Cypariss,
And calls to mind his portraiture alive,
How fair he was, and yet not fair to this,
And how he slew with glancing dart amiss
A gentle hind, the which the lovely boy
Did love as life, above all worldly bliss;
For grief whereof the lad n' ould after joy,
But pin'd away in anguish and self-will'd annoy.

The woody nymphs, fair Hamadryades,
Her to behold do thither run apace,
And all the troop of light foot Naiades
Flock all about to see her lovely face:

But when they viewed have her heavenly grace,
They envy her in their malicious mind,
And fly away for fear of foul disgrace:
But all the Satyrs scorn their woody kind,
And henceforth nothing fair but her on earth they

It fortuned a noble warlike knight
By just occasion to that forest came,
To seek his kindred, and the lineage right,
From whence he took his well deserved name;
He had in arms abroad won mickle fame,
And fill'd far lands with glory of his might,
Plain, faithful, true, and enemy of shame,
And ever lov'd to fight for ladies' right,
But in vain-glorious frays he little did delight:

A satyr's son yborn in forest wild,
By strange adventure as it did betide,
And there begotten of a lady mild,
Fair Thyamis, the daughter of Labride,
That was in sacred bands of wedlock tied
To Therion, a loose unruly swain;
Who had more joy to range the forest wide,
And chase the savage beast with busy pain,
Than serve his lady's love, and waste in pleasures

The forlorn maid did with love's longing burn,
And could not lack her lover's company;
But to the wood she goes, to serve her turn,
And seek her spouse, that from her still does fly,
And follows other game and venery:
A satyr chanc'd her wandering for to find,
And kindling coals of lust in brutish eye,
The loyal links of wedlock did unbind,


To tame, and ride their backs not made to bear;
And the roebucks in flight to overtake,

That every beast for fear of him did fly and quake.

Thereby so fearless, and so fell he grew,
That his own sire and master of his guise,
Did often tremble at his horrid view,
And oft for dread of hurt would him advise,
The angry beasts not rashly to despise,
Nor too much to provoke; for he would learn
The lion stoop to him in lowly wise,
(A lesson hard) and make the libbard stern
Leave roaring, when in rage he for revenge did yearn.

And for to make his power approved more,
Wild beasts in iron yokes he would compel;
The spotted panther, and the tusked boar,
The pardale swift, and the tiger cruel;
The antelope, and wolf, both fierce and fell;
And them constrain in equal team to draw.
Such joy he had, their stubborn hearts to quell,
And sturdy courage tame with dreadful awe,
That his behest they feared as proud tyrant's law.

His loving mother came upon a day
Unto the woods, to see her little son;
And chanc'd unwares to meet him in the way,
After his sports and cruel pastime done,
When after him a lioness did run,

That roaring all with rage, did loud requere
Her children dear, whom he away had won:
The lion whelps she saw how he did bear,
And lull in rugged arms, withouten childish fear.

The fearful dame all quaked at the sight,
And turning back, gan fast to fly away,
Untill with love revok'd from vain affright
She hardly yet persuaded was to stay,
And then to him these womanish words gan say;
vain." Ah, Satyrane, my darling and my joy,

And made her person thrall unto his beastly kind.

For love of me leave off this dreadful play;
To dally thus with death is no fit toy,
Go find some other playfellows, mine own sweet boy."

In these and like delights of bloody game
He trained was, till riper years he raught;
And there abode whilst any beast of name
Walk'd in that forest whom he had not taught
To fear his force: and then his courage haught
Desir'd of foreign foemen to be known,

And far abroad for strange adventures sought;
In which his might was never overthrown,
But through all fairy land his famous worth was blown.

Yet evermore it was his manner fair,
After long labours and adventures spent,
Unto those native woods for to repair,
To see his sire and offspring ancient.
And now he thither came for like intent;
Where he unwares the fairest Una found,
Strange lady, in so strange habiliment,

Teaching the Satyrs, which her sat around, [dound.
True sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did re-

He wonder'd at her wisdom heavenly rare,
Whose like in women's wit he never knew;
And when her courteous deeds he did compare,
Gan her admire, and her sad sorrows rue,
Blaming of fortune, which such troubles threw,
And joy'd to make proof of her cruelty
On gentle dame, so hurtless and so true:
Thenceforth he kept her goodly company,
And learn'd her discipline of faith and verity.


AT last she chanced by good hap to meet
A goodly knight, fair marching by the way,
Together with his squire, arrayed meet:
His glittering armour shined far away,
Like glancing light of Phœbus' brightest ray;
From top to toe no place appeared bare,
That deadly dint of steel endanger may :
Athwart his breast a bauldric brave he ware,
That shin'd like twinkling stars, with stones most
[precious rare.

And in the midst thereof one precious stone
Of wondrous worth, and eke of wondrous mights,
Shap'd like a lady's head, exceeding shone,
Like Hesperus amongst the lesser lights,
And strove for to amaze the weaker sights;
Thereby his mortal blade full comely hung
In ivory sheath, ycarv'd with curious slights;
Whose hilts were burnish'd gold, and handle strong
Of mother pearl, and buckled with a golden tongue.

His haughty helmet, horrid all with gold,
Both glorious brightness and great terror bred;
For all the crest a dragon did enfold
With greedy paws, and over all did spread
His golden wings; his dreadful hideous head
Close couched on the beaver, seem'd to throw
From flaming mouth bright sparkles fiery red,
That sudden horror to faint hearts did show;
And scaly tail was stretch'd adown his back full low.

Upon the top of all his lofty crest

A bunch of hairs discolour'd diversely,

With sprinkled pearl, and gold full richly dress'd,
Did shake, and seem'd to dance for jollity,
Like to an almond tree ymounted high

On top of green Selinis all alone,
With blossoms brave bedecked daintily;
Whose tender locks do tremble every one

At every little breath that under heaven is blown.

DESCRIPTION of Belphebe.

HER face so fair as flesh it seemed not,
But heavenly portrait of bright angels' hue,
Clear as the sky, withouten blame or blot,
Through goodly mixture of complexions due;
And in her cheeks the vermeil red did shew
Like roses in a bed of lilics shed,
The which ambrosial odours from them threw,
And gazers' sense with double pleasure fed,
Able to heal the sick, and to revive the dead.

In her fair eyes two living lamps did flame,
Kindled above at th' heavenly maker's light,
And darted fiery beams out of the same,
So passing piercing, and so wondrous bright,
That quite bereav'd the rash beholders' sight;
In them the blinded god his lustful fire
To kindle oft essay'd, but had no might;
For with dread Majesty, and awful ire,

She broke his wanton darts, and quenched base desire.

Her ivory forehead, full of bounty brave,
Like a broad table did itself dispread,
For love his lofty triumphs to engrave,
And write the battles of his great godhead;
All good and honour might therein be read:
For there their dwelling was. And when she spake,
Sweet words, like dropping honey, she did shed,
And twixt the pearls and rubies softly brake

A silver sound, that heavenly music seem'd to make.

Upon her eyelids many graces sate,
Under the shadow of her even brows,
Working belgards, and amorous retreat,
And every one her with a grace endows:
And every one with meekness to her bows.
So glorious mirror of celestial grace,
And sovereign monument of mortal vows,
How shall frail pen describe her heavenly face,
For fear, through want of skill, her beauty to disgrace?

So fair, and thousand thousand times more fair
She seem'd, when she presented was to sight.
And was yclad (for heat of scorching air)
All in a silken camus, lily white,

Purfled upon with many a folded plight
Which all above besprinkled was throughout
With golden agulets, that glistered bright,
Like twinkling stars, and all the skirt about
Was hemmed with golden fringe.

Below her ham her weed did somewhat train,
And her strait legs most bravely were embail'd
In golden buskins of costly cordwain
All barr'd with golden bands, which were entail'd
With curious anticks, and full fair aumail'd:
Before, they fastened were under her knee

In a rich jewel, and therein entrail'd

The end of all their knots, that none might see,
How they, within their foldings, close enwrapped be.

Like two fair marble pillars they were seen,
Which do the temple of the gods support,

Whom all the people deck with garlands green,
And honour in their festival resort;

Those same with stately grace, and princely port
She taught to tread, when she herself would grace;
But with the woody nymphs when she did play,
Or when the flying libbard she did chace,
She could them nimbly move, and after fly apace.

And in her hand a sharp boar-spear she held,
And at her back a bow and quiver gay,
Stuffed with steel-headed darts, wherewith she quell'd
The savage beasts in her victorious play,
Knit in a golden bauldrick, which forelay
Athwart her snowy breast, and did divide

Her dainty paps; which, like young fruit in May,
Now little gan to swell, and being tied,
Through her thin weed, their places only signified.

Her yellow locks crisped like golden wire,
About her shoulders weren loosely shed,
And when the wind amongst them did inspire,
They waved like a pennon wide disspread,
And low behind her back were scattered:
And whether art it were, or heedless hap,
As through the flowering forest rash she fled,
In her rude hairs sweet flowers themselves did lap,
And flowering fresh leaves and blossoms did enwrap.


WHOSO in pomp of proud estate (quoth she)
Does swim, and bathes himself in courtly bliss,
Does waste his days in dark obscurity,
And in oblivion ever buried is:
Where ease abounds, it's eath to do amiss;
But who his limbs with labours, and his mind
Behaves with cares, cannot so easy miss.
Abroad in arms, at home in studious kind

|Came to a river, by whose utmost brim
Waiting to pass, he saw whereas did swim
Along the shore, as swift as glance of eye,
A little Gondola, bedecked trim
With boughs and arbours woven cunningly,
That like a little forest seemed outwardly.

And therein sate a lady fresh and fair,
Making sweet solace to herself alone;
Sometimes she sung, as loud as lark in air,
Sometimes she laughed, that nigh her breath was gone :
Yet was there not with her else any one,
That might to her move cause of merriment:
Matter of mirth enough, though there were none,
She could devise, and thousand ways invent
To feed her foolish humour, and vain jolliment.

Which when far off Cymochles heard and saw,
He loudly call'd to such as were aboard
The little bark unto the shore to draw,
And him to ferry over that deep ford:
The merry mariner unto his word

Soon hearkned, and her painted boat straightway
Turn'd to the shore, where that same warlike lord
She in receiv'd; but Atin by no way

She would admit, albe the knight her much did pray.

Eftsoon her shallow ship away did slide,
More swift than swallow shears the liquid sky,
Withouten oar or pilot it to guide,

Or winged canvas with the wind to fly;
Only she turn'd a pin, and by and by
It cut away upon the yielding wave,
Nor cared she her course for to apply:

For it was taught the way, which she would have,
And both from rocks and flats itself could wisely save:

And all the way, the wanton damsel found

Who seeks with painful toil, shall honour soonest find. New mirth, her passenger to entertain:

In woods, in waves, in wars, she wonts to dwell,
And will be found with peril and with pain;
Nor can the man that moulds in idle cell,
Unto her happy mansion attain;

Before her gate high God did Sweat ordain,
And wakeful Watches ever to abide :
But easy is the way, and passage plain
To pleasure's palace; it may soon be spied,
And day and night her doors to all stand open wide.


A HARDER lesson to learn continence
In joyous pleasure than in grievous pain:
For, sweetness doth allure the weaker sense
So strongly, that uneathes it can refrain
From that, which feeble nature covets fain;
But grief and wrath, that be her enemies,
And foes of life, she better can restrain;
Yet virtue vaunts in both their victories,
And Guyon in them all shews goodly masteries.
Whom bold Cymochles travelling to find,
With cruel purpose bent to wreak on him
The wrath, which Atin kindled in his mind,

For, she in pleasant purpose did abound,
And greatly joyed merry tales to feign,
Of which a storehouse did with her remain:
Yet seemed, nothing well they her became ;
For, all her words she drown'd with laughter vain,
And wanted grace in utt'ring of the same,
That turned all her pleasance to a scoffing game.

And other whiles vain lays she would devise,
As her fantastic wit did most delight.
Sometimes her head she fondly would aguise
With gaudy garlands, or fresh flowrets dight
About her neck, or rings of rushes plight;
Sometimes to do him laugh, she would essay
To laugh at shaking of the leaves light,
Or to behold the water work, and play
About her little frigate therein making way.

Her light behaviour, and loose dalliance,
Gave wondrous great contentment to the knight,
That of his way he had no souvenance,
Nor care of vow'd revenge, and cruel fight,
But to weak wench did yield his martial might.
So easy was to quench his flamed mind
With one sweet drop of sensual delight:
So easy is t' appease the stormy wind

Of malice in the calm of pleasant womankind,

Divers discourses in their way they spent,
Mongst which Cymochles of her questioned,
Both what she was, and what that usage meant,
Which in her cot she daily practised.
Vain man, said she, that would'st be reckoned
A stranger in thy home, and ignorant
Of Phedria (for so my name is read)
Of Phedria, thine own fellow servant;
For thou to serve Acrasia thyself dost vaunt.

In this wide inland sea, that hight by name
The Idle Lake, my wandring ship I rove,
That knows her port, and thither sails by aim,
Nor care, nor fear I, how the wind do blow,
Or whether swift I wend, or whether slow:
Both slow and swift alike do serve my turn,
Nor swelling Neptune, nor loud thund'ring Jove,
Can change my cheer, or make me ever mourn;
My little boat can safely pass this perilous bourne.
While thus she talked, and while thus she toy'd,
They were far past the passage which he spake,
And came unto an island waste and void,
That floated in the midst of that great lake:
There her smart gondola her port did make,
And that gay pair issuing on the shore
Disburdened her. Their way they forward take,
Into the land that lay them fair before,

[store. Whose pleasance she him shew'd, and plentiful great

It was a chosen plot of fertile land,
Amongst wide waves set like a little nest,
As if it had by Nature's cunning hand
Been choicely picked out from all the rest,
And laid forth for ensample of the best:

No dainty flower or herb that grows on ground,
No arboret with painted blossoms drest,
And smelling sweet, but there it might be found
To bud out fair, and her sweet smells throw all around.

No tree, whose branches did not bravely spring;
No branch, whereon a fine bird did not sit;
No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetly sing;
No song, but did contain a lovely dit :
Trees, branches, birds, and songs, were framed fit
For to allure frail mind to careless ease;
Careless the man soon wax, and his weak wit
Was overcome of thing that did him please;
So pleased, did his wrathful purpose fair appease.

Thus when she had his eyes and senses fed

With false delights, and fill'd with pleasures vain,
Into a shady dale she soft him led,

And laid him down upon a grassy plain;
And her sweet self, without dread or disdain,
She set beside, laying his head disarm'd

In her loose lap, it softly to sustain,
Where soon he slumber'd, fearing not be harm'd,
The while with a loud lay she thus him sweetly charm'd.

"Behold! O man, that toilsome pains dost take,
The flowers, the fields, and all that pleasant grows,
How they themselves do thine ensample make,
While nothing envious Nature them forth throws
Out of her fruitful lap; how, no man knows,
They spring, they bud, they blossom fresh and fair,

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AT last, he came unto a gloomy glade,
Cover'd with boughs and shrubs from heaven's light,
Whereas he sitting found, in secret shade,
An uncouth, savage, and uncivil wight,
Of grizly hue, and foul ill-favour'd sight;
His face with smoke was tann'd, and eyes were blear'd,
His head and beard with soot were ill bedight,
His coal-black hands did seem to have been sear'd
In smith's fire-spitting forge, and nails like claws ap-

His iron coat all overgrown with rust,
Was underneath enveloped with gold,
Whose glittering gloss darkned with filthy dust,
Well it appeared to have been of old

A work of rich entail, and curious mould,
Woven with anticks and wild imagery:
And in his lap a mass of coin he told,
And turned upside down, to feed his eye
And covetous desire with his huge treasury.

And round about him lay on every side
Great heaps of gold that never could be spent ;
Of which some were rude ore, not purified
Of Mulciber's devouring element;
Some others were new riven, and distent
Into great ingots, and to wedges square;
Some in round plates withouten moniment;
But most were stamped, and in their metal bare
The antique shapes of kings and kesars strange and rare.

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