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any man to enter into it. Nay, he doth, as if your journey should lie through a fair vineyard, at the very 40 first give you a cluster of grapes, that full of that taste you may long to pass farther. He beginneth not with obscure definitions, which must blur the margin with interpretations, 45 and load the memory with doubtfulness, but he cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for, the well-enchanting skill of music; and 50 with a tale, forsooth, he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney-corner. And, pretending no more, doth intend the winning of 55 the mind from wickedness to virtue; even as the child is often brought to take most wholesome things, by hiding them in such other as have a pleasant taste; which, if one should eo begin to tell them the nature of the aloes or rhubarb they should receive,

would sooner take their physic at their ears than at their mouth. So it is in men (most of which are childish in the best things, till they be cradled 65 in their graves); glad they will be to hear the tales of Hercules, Achilles, Cyrus, Æneas; and hearing them, must needs hear the right description of wisdom, valour, and justice; which 70 if they had been barely, that is to say philosophically, set out, they would swear they be brought to school again. That imitation whereof poetry is, hath the most conveniency to nature of 75 all other; insomuch that, as Aristotle saith, those things which in themselves are horrible, as cruel battles, unnatural monsters, are made, in poetical imitation, delightful. Truly, I 80 have known men, that even with reading Amadis de Gaule, which, God knoweth, wanteth much of a perfect poesy, have found their hearts moved to the exercise of courtesy, liberality, 85 and especially courage.

From ASTROPHEL AND STELLA.
[Ab. 1581?]

XXXI.

With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What? may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace
8 To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
12 Do they above love to be loved, and yet

Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call 'virtue' there ungratefulness?

XXXIX.

Come, Sleep, O Sleep! the certain knot of peace, The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,

The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
4 Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;
With shield of proof shield me from out the prease
Of these fierce darts Despair at me doth throw:
O make in me those civil wars to cease;
8 I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light,
A rosy garland and a weary head;

12 And if these things, as being thine in right,
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me,
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.

EDMUND SPENSER.

DMUND SPENSER (1552?-1599) was

ED

born in London, probably in 1552. Though poor, he managed to study at the University of Cambridge, where he went to Pembroke Hall as a sizar. Through his college friend G. Harvey he was introduced to the Earl of Leicester, into whose service he entered, and to Leicester's nephew, Sir Philip Sidney, with whom he contracted a close friendship. To the latter Spenser dedicated his first great work, The Shepherd's Calendar (1579), a fine pastoral poem which consists of twelve 'eclogues', written in imitation of Theocritus, Marot, Mantuanus, and others, and containing the complaints of a lover, Colin Clout (i. e. Spenser himself), as well as dialogues on politics and religion. The poem is also remarkable for its language, which was seasoned with many archaic words and forms, partly taken from Chaucer, partly of Spenser's own coining; they were explained in a commentary by one E. K.' (probably the poet's friend Edward Kirke), which accompanied the poem from its first appearance. Through the influence of his noble friends Spenser became secretary to Lord Grey de Wilton, Deputy of Ireland, and consequently, in 1580, went over to Ireland, where he remained till within a month of his death, holding successive official appointments as Clerk of the Irish Court of Chancery (1581), Clerk of the Council of Munster (1588), and Sheriff of Cork (1598). Since 1581 he had secured much landed property in several parts of Ireland; but, in 1588, he settled in the old castle of Kilcolman, which he had rented out of the forfeited estates of the Earl of Desmond. Here he was

visited by his neighbour and fellow-colonist Sir Walter Raleigh, who became his most intimate friend after Sidney's death. To Raleigh the poet showed the draft of the first three books of the Faerie Queene which he had begun before coming to Ireland. Raleigh was so delighted with the poem, that he took Spenser over to London to find a publisher for it, and also to present his friend to Queen Elizabeth. In both they succeeded: the three books of the Faerie Queene were published in 1590, and Elizabeth felt so flattered by the many compliments paid to her in this work, that she granted to the poet a pension of 50l. a year. Returned to Kilcolman, Spenser gave a poetic account of his journey and his court experiences in his charming pastoral Colin Clout's come home again. In 1594 he married Elizabeth Boyle, who inspired both his Amoretti, a collection of love-sonnets, and his splendid Epithalamion, 'one of the grandest lyrics in English poetry', written in honour of his wedding. The volume entitled Amoretti and Epithalamion (1595) was soon followed by another hymeneal ode, the exquisite Prothalamion (for the marriage of two of Lord Worcester's daughters), and by three more books of the Faërie Queene (1596). Probably about the same time he wrote also his View of the Present State of Ireland, a political pamphlet, giving a vivid, though unsympathetic picture of Irish affairs at that time. thorough English attitude towards the Irish excited much bad feeling among the native population, so that, when Tyrone's rebellion broke out (1598), his house was burnt over his head. Spenser fled with his wife

His

and children to Cork; but sent to London with an official despatch, he died there, a month after his arrival, in January 1599. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, near the tomb of Chaucer.

The most popular of Spenser's works is his Faerie Queene, an exquisite allegoric narrative poem which was inspired by Ariosto's Orlando Furioso (1516), but combined the romantic epic of the Italians (Boiardo, Ariosto, Tasso) with the moral style of English medieval allegory (Lydgate and Steph. Hawes). The plan of the poem was to represent the twelve private moral virtues under the figures of twelve knights who, backed by King Arthur and the Queen of Fairyland, undertook perilous combats with vice in various shapes. According to this plan we have but a fragment of the work; for the six books extant contain only the adventures of the knights of Holiness (Red Cross Knight), Temperance (Sir Guyon), Chastity (Britomart), Friendship, Justice, and Courtesy, thus representing rather a collection of separate

tales than a continuous whole. But, in spite of its want of unity, the poem will live for the marvellous fertility of invention in its incidents and characters and for the rich pictorial beauty of its descriptions. To the poet's contemporaries the overt allusions to Queen Bess (= Fairy Queen, Britomart, etc.), Lord Leicester (=Prince Arthur), Mary Stuart (= Duessa), and other living men and women gave an additional interest. The nine-line stanza in which the poem is written was invented by Spenser, and has since retained the name of 'Spenserian stanza'. The language of the Fairy Queen is less archaic than that of the Shepherd's Calendar, yet still so full of archaisms, that it gave offence even to men of his own age. Spenser's influence on English literature can hardly be overestimated, as it is not only visible in such professed disciples as Thomson, Keats, and others, but can be traced in the poetical development of nearly every English poet, especially since the Spenserian revival in the beginning of the 18th century.

THE LEGEND OF THE KNIGHT OF THE RED CROSS OR OF HOLINESS.

[From The Faerie Queene Bk. I, C. I, ll. 1-252 (1590)]

I.

A gentle knight was pricking on the plain,
Yclad in mighty arms and silver shield,
Wherein old dints of deep wounds did remain,
The cruel marks of many a bloody field;
Yet arms till that time did he never wield.
His angry steed did chide his foaming bit,
As much disdaining to the curb to yield:

8 Full jolly knight he seem'd, and fair did sit,

As one for knightly jousts and fierce encounters fit.

II.

And on his breast a bloody cross he bore,
The dear remembrance of his dying Lord,

12 For whose sweet sake that glorious badge he wore,
And dead, as living, ever him ador'd:

Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,

For sovereign hope, which in his help he had.
16 Right faithful, true he was in deed and word;
But of his cheer did seem too solemn sad;
Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.

III.

Upon a great adventure he was bond, 20 That greatest Gloriana to him gave,

(That greatest glorious Queen of Fairy Lond) To win him worship, and her grace to have, Which of all earthly things he most did crave. 24 And ever, as he rode, his heart did earn To prove his puissance in battle brave Upon his foe, and his new force to learn, Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stern.

IV.

28 A lovely lady rode him fair beside,

Upon a lowly ass more white than snow,
Yet she much whiter; but the same did hide
Under a veil that wimpled was full low;
32 And over all a black stole she did throw.
As one that inly mourn'd, so was she sad,
And heavy sat upon her palfrey slow;

Seemed in heart some hidden care she had,
86 And by her, in a line, a milk-white lamb she lad.

V.

So pure and innocent, as that same lamb,
She was in life and every virtuous lore,
And by descent from royal lineage came

40 Of ancient kings and queens, that had of yore
Their sceptres stretch'd from east to western shore,
And all the world in their subjection held,

Till that infernal fiend with foul uproar

44 Forwasted all their land, and them expelled;

Whom to avenge, she had this knight from far compelled.

VI.

Behind her far away a dwarf did lag
That lazy seem'd, in being ever last,

48 Or wearied with bearing of her bag

Of needments at his back. Thus as they past,

The day with clouds was sudden overcast,

And angry Jove a hideous storm of rain

52 Did pour into his leman's lap so fast,

That every wight to shroud it did constrain;

And this fair couple eke to shroud themselves were fain.

VII.

Enforced to seek some covert nigh at hand,
66 A shady grove not far away they spied
That promis'd aid the tempest to withstand,
Whose lofty trees, yclad with summer's pride,

Did spread so broad, that heaven's light did hide, 60 Not pierceable with power of any star;

And all within were paths and alleys wide,

With footing worn, and leading inward far.

Fair harbour that them seems; so in they entered are.

VIII.

64 And forth they pass, with pleasure forward led,
Joying to hear the birds' sweet harmony,

Which therein shrouded from the tempest dread
Seem'd in their song to scorn the cruel sky.

68 Much can they praise the trees so straight and high,
The sailing pine, the cedar proud and tall,
The vine-prop elm, the poplar never dry,
The builder oak, sole king of forrests all,
72 The aspen good for staves, the cypress funeral,

IX.

The laurel, meed of mighty conquerors
And poets sage, the fir that weepeth still,
The willow, worn of forlorn paramours,
76 The yew, obedient to the bender's will,
The birch for shafts, the sallow for the mill,
The myrrh, sweet-bleeding in the bitter wound,
The warlike beech, the ash for nothing ill,
80 The fruitful olive, and the platane round,
The carver holm, the maple seldom inward sound.

X.

Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,
Until the blust'ring storm is overblown;
84 When weening to return whence they did stray,
They cannot find that path which first was shown,
But wander to and fro in ways unknown,

Furthest from end then, when they nearest ween;
88 That makes them doubt their wits be not their own.
So many paths, so many turnings seen,

That which of them to take in diverse doubt they been.

XI.

At last resolving forward still to fare,

92 Till that some end they find, or in or out,

That path they take that beaten seem'd most bare,
And like to lead the labyrinth about;

Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,
96 At length it brought them to a hollow cave
Amid the thickest woods. The champion stout
Eftsoons dismounted from his courser brave,
And to the dwarf awhile his needless spear he gave.

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