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Her golden locks, for haste, were loosely shed |

haste were loosely shed | Scarcely had Phæbus in the glooming east About her ears, wben Una her did mark

Yet harnessed his fiery-footed team, Climb to her chariot, all with flowers spread, Ne reard above the earth his flaming creast;

From heaven high to chase the cheerless dark ; When the last deadly smoke aloft did steam, With merry note her loud salutes the mounting That sign of last outbreathéd life did seem lark.

Unto the watchman on the castle-wall,

Who thereby dead that baleful beast did deem, Then freshly up arose the doughty Knight, And to his lord and lady loud gan call, All healéd of his hurts and woundës wide, To tell how he had seen the dragon's fatal fall, And did himself to battle ready dight; Whose early foe awaiting him beside

Uprose with hasty joy, and feeble speed, To have devour'd, so soon as day he spied, That aged sire, the lord of all that land, When now he saw himself so freshly rear, And looked forth, to weet if true indeed As if late fight had naught him damnified, Those tidings were as he did understand:

He wox dismay'd, and gan his fate to fear; Which whenas true by trial he out fond, Nathless with wonted rage he him advanced near; He bade to open wide his brazen gate,

Which long time had been shut, and out of And in his first encounter, gaping wide,

hond He thought at once him to have swallow'd quite,

Proclaimed joy and earth through all his state; And rush'd upon him with outrageous pride; For dead now was their foe, which them forayéd Who him rencounting fierce, as hawk in flight,

late. Perforce rebutted back: the weapon bright, Taking advantage of his open jaw,

Then gan triumphant trumpets sound on high, Ran through his mouth with so importune

That sent to heav'n the echoed report might,

Of their new joy, and happy victory (tort, That deep emperst his darksome hollow maw, Gainst him, that had them long opprest with. And, back retird, his life-blood forth withal did | And fast imprisoned in siegéd fort. draw.

Then all the people, as in solemn feast,

To him assembled with one full consort, So down he fell, and forth his life did breathe, Rejoicing at the fall of that great beast, That vanisht into smoke and cloudës swift: From whose eternal bondage now they were reSo down he fell, that th' earth him underneath

least. Did groan, as feeble so great load to lift; So down he fell, as an huge rocky clift,

Forth came that ancient lord, and aged queen, Whose false foundation waves have washt away,

Array'd in antique robes down to the ground, With dreadful poise is from the mainland rift, And sad habiliments right well beseen:

And, rolling down, great Neptune doth dismay: A noble crew about them waited round, So down he fell, and like an heaped mountain

Of sage and sober peers, all gravely gown'd; lay.

Whom far before did march a goodly band

Of tall young men, all able arms to sownd, The Knight himself ev'n trembled at his fall,

But now they laurel branches bore in hand ; So huge and horrible a mass it seem'd;

Glad sign of victory and peace in all their land. And his dear lady, that beheld it all, Durst not approach for dread which she mis Unto that doughty conqueror they came, deemid;

And, him before, themselves prostrating low, But yet at last, whenas the direful fiend

Their lord and patron loud did him proclaim, She saw not stir, off-shaking vain affright

And at his feet their laurel boughs did throw. She nigher drew, and saw that joyous end :

Soon after them, all dancing on a row, Then God she prais'd, and thank'd her faithful The comely virgins came, with garlands dight, Knight,

As fresh as flow'rs in meadow green do grow, That had achiev'd so great a conquest by his When morning dew upon their leaves doth might.


[hight. And in their hands sweet timbrels all upheld on

And, them before, the fry of children young CANTO XII.

Their wanton sports and childish mirth did play,

And to the maidens' sounding timbrels sung
Fair Una to the Redcross Knight

In well attunéd notes a joyous lay,
Betrothéd is with joy:
Though false Duessa it to bar,

And made delightful music all the way,
Her false sleights do employ.

Until they came where that fair virgin stood:

As fair Diana in fresh summer's day BEHOLD I see the haven nigh at hand,

Beholds her nymphs enrang'd in shady wood, To which I mean my weary course to bend; Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in crystal Veer the main sheet, and bear up with the land,

The which afore is fairly to be kend,
And seemeth safe from storms that may offend : So she beheld those maidens' merriment
There this fair virgin weary of her way,

With cheerful view ; who, when to her they Must landed be, now at her journey's end :

[bent. There eke my feeble bark a while may stay, I Themselves to ground with gracious humblesa Till merry wind and weather call her thence away. | And her ador'd by honorable name,


Lifting to heav'n her everlasting fame:

My narrow leaves cannot in them contain Then on her head they set a garland green, 1 The large discourse of royal princes' state. And crowned her twixt earnest and twixt game: Yet was their manner then but bare and plain;

Who, in her self-resemblance well beseen, For th' ántique world excess and pride did Did seein, such as she was a goodly Maiden Queen.

hate :

Such proud luxurious pomp is swollen up but late. And after all the rascal many ran, Heaped together in rude rabblement,

Then, when with meats and drinks of every kind To see the face of that victorious man,

Their fervent appetites they quenchéd had, Whom all admired as from heav'n sent,

That ancient lord gan fit occasion find, And gaz'd upon with gaping wonderment. Of strange adventures, and of perils sad But when they came where that dead dragon Which in his travel bim befallen had, lay,

For to demand of his renowned guest: (sad, Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large ex Who then with utt'rance grave, and count'nance tent,

From point to point, as is before exprest, The sight with idle fear did them dismay, | Discours'd his voyage long, according his request. Ne durst approach him nigh, to touch, or once assay.

Great pleasure, mixt with pitiful regard,

That goodly king and queen did passionate, Some feard and filed; some fear'd, and well it Whiles they his pitiful adventures heard ; feign'd;

That oft they did lament his luckless state, One, that would wiser seem than all the rest, 1. And often blame the too importune fate Warn'd him not touch, for yet perhaps re That heap'd on him so many wrathful wreaks; main'd

(For never gentle knight, as he of late, Some ling'ring life within his hollow breast, I So tosséd was in fortune's cruel freaks ;) Or in his womb might lurk some hidden nest And all the while salt tears bedew'd the hearers' Of many dragonettes, his fruitful seed;

cheeks. Another said, that in his eyes did rest

Yet sparkling fire, and bade thereof take heed; | Then said that royal peer in sober wise; Another said, he saw. him move his eyes indeed. “Dear son, great been the evils which ye bore

From first to last in your late enterprise, One mother, whenas her foolhardy child

That I no'te 1 whether praise or pity more: Did come too near, and with his talons play, For never living man, I ween, so sore Hall dead through fear, her little babe revil'd, In sea of deadly dangers was distrest: And to her gossips gan in counsel say;

But since now safe ye seizéd have the shore, “How can I tell, but that his talons may

And well arrivéd are, (High God be blest!)
Yet scratch my son, or rend his tender hand?" | Let us devise of ease and everlasting rest."
So diversely themselves in vain they fray;
Whiles some more bold to measure him nigh “Ah, dearest lord," said then that doughty

To prove how many acres he did spread of land. “Of ease or rest I may not yet devise ;

For by the faith, which I to arms have plight,
Thus flocked all the folk him round about; I bounden am straight after this emprise,
The whiles that hoary king, with all his train, (As that your daughter can ye well advise,)
Being arrived where that champion stout Back to return to that great Faery Queene,
After his foe's defeasaunce did remain,

And her to serve six years in warlike wise, Him goodly greets, and fair does entertain Gainst that proud Paynim king? that works her With princely gifts of ivory and gold,

teen :

[been." And thousand thanks him yields for all his pain. Therefore I ought crave pardon, till I there have

Then when his daughter dear he does behold,
Her dearly doth embrace, and kisseth manifold. “ Unhappy falls that hard necessity,"

Quoth he, “the troubler of my happy peace, And after to his palace he them brings,

And vowed foe of my felicity; With shawms, and trumpets, and with clarions Ne I against the same can justly preace.3 sweet ;

But since that band ye cannot now release, And all the way the joyous people sings,

Nor done undo, (for vows may not be vain,) And with their garments strews the pavéd

Soon as the term of those six years shall cease, street,

Ye then shall hither back return again, Whence mounting up, they find purveyance The marriage to accomplish vow'd betwixt you meet

twain : Of all, that royal princes' court became; And all the floor was underneath their feet “Which, for my part, I covet to perform, Bespread with costly scarlet of great name,

In sort as through the world I did proclaim, On which they lowly sit, and fitting purpose

That whoso kill'd that monster most deform, frame.

And him in hardy battle overcame,

What needs me tell their feast and goodly guise,
In which was nothing riotous nor vain ?
What needs of dainty dishes to devise,
Of comely services, or courtly train ?

I Know not.

9 "Paynim king;" these are the wars with Philip II., above referred to, which Spenser would have celebrated had he lived.

$ Press, remonstrate.


Should have mine only daughter to his dame, ! Witness the burning altars, which be swore, And of my kingdom heir apparent be:

And guilty heav'ns of his bold perjury; Therefore since now to thee pertains the same, Which though he bath polluted oft of yore,

By due desert of noble chivalry, [thee." Yet I to them for judgment just do fly, Both daughter and eke kingdom lo! I yield to And them conjure t'avenge this shameful injury!

Then forth he calléd that his daughter fair, “ Therefore since mine he is, or free or bond, The fairest Un', his only daughter dear,

Or false or true, or living or else dead, His only daughter, and his only heir ;

Withhold, O sov'raine prince, your hasty hond Who forth proceeding with sad sober cheer, From knitting league with him, I you aread, As bright as doth the morning star appear Ne ween my right with strength adown to tread, Out of the east, with flaming locks bedight, Through weakness of my widowhood or woe: To tell that dawning day is drawing near, For Truth is strong her rightful cause to plead,

And to the world does bring long-wished light: And shall find friends, if need requireth so. So fair and fresh that Lady show'd herself in sight: So bids thee well to fare, thy neither friend nor


FIDESSA." So fair and fresh, as freshest flower in May; For she had laid her mournful stole aside, When he these bitter biting words had read, And widow-like sad wimple thrown away,

The tidings strange did him abashéd make, Wherewith her heavenly beauty she did hide, That still he sat long time astonished, Whiles on her weary journey she did ride; As in great muse, ne word to creature spake. And on her now a garment she did wear

At last his solemn silence thus he brake, All lily white, withouten spot or pride,

With doubtful eyes fast fixéd on his guest; That seem'd like silk and silver woven near; “Redoubted Knight, that for mine only sake, But neither silk nor silver therein did appear. Thy life and honor late adventurest; [prest.

Let naught be hid from me, that ought to be exThe blazing brightness of her beauty's beam, And glorious light of her sunshiny face,

“What mean these bloody vows and idle threats, To tell, were as to strive against the stream: Thrown out from womanish impatient mind ? My ragged rhymes are all too rude and base What heav'ns ? what altars ? what enragéd Her heavenly lineaments for to enchase.

heats, Ne wonder; for her own dear loved Knight, Here heaped up with terms of love unkind, All were she daily with himself in place, My conscience clear with guilty bands would Did wonder much at her celestial sight:

bind ? Oft had he seen her fair, but never so fair dight. High God be witness, that I guiltless am!

But if yourself, Sir Knight, ye faulty find, So fairly dight when she in presence came, Or wrappéd be in loves of former dame, She to her sire made humble reverence, With crime do not it cover, but disclose the same.” And bowéd low, that her right well became, And added grace unto her excellence:

To whom the Redeross Knight this answer Who with great wisdom and grave eloquence


(may'd, Thus gan to say-But, ere he thus had said, “My lord, my king; be naught hereat disWith flying speed, and seeming great pretence, Till well ye wote by grave intendiment,

Came running in, much like a man dismay'd, What woman, and wherefore, doth me upbraid A messenger with letters, which his message said. With breach of love and loyalty betray'd.

It was in my mishaps, as hitherward All in the open hall amazéd stood

I lately travell’d, that unwares I stray'd At suddenness of that unwary sight,

Out of my way, through perils strange and And wonder'd at his breathless hasty mood:


[clar'd. But he for naught would stay his passage right, That day should fail me ere I had them all deTill fast before the king he did alight; Where falling flat great humbless he did make, “There did I find, or rather I was found And kist the ground whereon his foot was pight; Of this false woman that Fidessa hight,

Then to his hands that writ he did betake, Fidessa hight the falsest dame on ground, Which he disclosing, read thus, as the paper spake; Most false Duessa, royal richly dight,

That easy was t'inveigle weaker sight: “ To thee, most mighty King of Eden fair, Who by her wicked arts and wily skill, Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest

Too false and strong for earthly skill or might, The woeful daughter and forsaken heir

Unwares me wrought unto her wicked will, Of that great Emperor of all the West; And to my foe betray'd, when least I feared ill." And bids thee be advizéd for the best, Ere thou thy daughter link, in holy band Then stepped forth the goodly royal maid, Of wedlock, to that new unknowen guest : And, on the ground herself prostrating low, For he already plighted his right hand

With sober countenance thus to him said ; Unto another love, and to another land.

“O pardon me, my sov'raine lord, to show

The secret treasons, which of late I know “ To me, sad maid, or rather widow sad,

To have been wrought by that false sorceress : He was affiancéd long time before,

She, only she, it is, that erst did throw And sacred pledges he both gave, and had, ! This gentle Knight into so great distress, False errant Knight, infamous, and forswore! That death him did await in daily wretchedness. less."

“And now it seems, that she subornéd hath That all the house did sweat with great array: This crafty messenger with letters vain,

And all the while sweet music did apply To work new woe and unprovided scath,

Her curious skill the warbling notes to play, By breaking of the band betwixt us twain; To drive away the dull melancholy; Wherein she used hath the practick pain The whiles one sung a song of love and jollity. Of this false footman, cloakt with simpleness, Whom if ye please for to discover plain, During the which there was an heavenly noise Ye shall him Archimago find, I guess

Heard sound through all the palace pleasantly, The falsest man alive; who tries, shall find no Like as it had been many an angel's voice

Singing before th’ Eternal Majesty,

In their trinal triplicities * on high : The king was greatly movéd at her speech; Yet wist no çreature whence that heav'nly And, all with sudden indignation fraight,

sweet Bade on that messenger rude hands to reach. Proceeded, yet each one felt secretly Eftsoons the guard, which on his state did wait, Himself thereby reft of his senses meet, Attacht that faytor false, and bound him strait : And ravishéd with rare impression in his sprite. Who seeming sorely chaufféd at his band, As chainéd bear whom cruel dogs do bait, Great joy was made that day of young and old,

With idle force did feign them to withstand ; And solemn feast proclaim'd throughout the And often semblance made to scape out of their

land, hand.

That their exceeding mirth may not be told :

Suffice it here by signs to understand But they him laid full low in dungeon deep, The usual joys at knitting of love's band. And bound him hand and foot with iron chains; Thrice happy man the Knight himself did hold, And with continual watch did warely keep. Possesséd of his Lady's heart and hand; Who then would think, that by his subtile And ever, when his eye did her behold, trains

His heart did seem to melt in pleasures manifold.
He could escape foul death or deadly pains ?
Thus, when that prince's wrath was pacified, Her joyous presence, and sweet company,
He gan renew the late forbidden bains,

In full content he there did long enjoy;
And to the Knight his daughter dear he tied Ne wicked envy, ne vile jealousy,
With sacred rites and vows for ever to abide. His dear delights were able to annoy:

Yet swimming in that sea of blissful joy,
His own two hands the holy knots did knit, He naught forgot how he whilome had sworn,
That none but death for ever can divide;

In case he could that monstrous beast destroy, His own two hands, for such a turn most fit, Unto his Faery Queene back to return; The housling? fire did kindle and provide, The which he shortly did; and Una left to mourn. And holy water thereon sprinkled wide; At which the bushy teade : a groom did light, Now, strike your sails, ye jolly mariners, And sacred lamp in secret chamber hide,

For we be come unto a quiet road, Where it should not be quenchéd day nor Where we must land some of our passengers, night,

And light this weary vessel of her load, For fear of evil fates, but burnen ever bright. Here she a while may make her safe abode,

Till she repaired have her tackles spent, Then gan they sprinkle all the posts with wine, And wants supplied; and then again abroad And made great feast to solemnise that day: On the long voyage whereto she is bent: They all perfum'd with frankincense divine, Well may she speed, and fairly finish her intent! And precious odors fetcht from far away,

4 In their three hierarchies, with three ranks in each 1 Bans. 9 Sacramental

3 Torch. l hierarchy.


WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, the greatest not only | beth," "Julius Cæsar," " Antony and Cleopa. of English but of all poets, was born at Strat- / tra," “Coriolanus,” “Cymbeline," “Timon of ford - upon - Avon, Warwickshire, on April 23, Athens," "The Winter's Tale," "The Tem. 1564. His father was John Shakespeare, who pest,” and “King Henry VIII.” “ Pericles," is called, in parish record and tradition, succes. published in his lifetime as his, was probably sively a glover, a yeoman, a gentleman and free. the work of an inferior writer, which he under. holder, a butcher, and a dealer in wool. John took to improve, and which shows some marks Shakespeare married Mary Arden, the youngest of his latest style. He wrote in all thirty-three daughter of Robert Arden, of Wilmecote, who plays, or thirty-seven if the separate parts into was a gentleman of ancient family, and a con. which some of them are divided be counted. siderable proprietor of land. William Shake. He also wrote “A Lover's Complaint," a charmspeare was the third child and the first son of a ing amatory elegy, and a miscellany of minor family of eight. He was educated at the gram. pieces called “The Passionate Pilgrim." mar-school of Stratford, where he learned a little His sonnets, which were published in 1609, Latin and less Greek. It seems probable, from are one hundred and fifty-four in number, and the knowledge of law-terms shown in his works, are the best in the English language, perhaps in that there is some truth in the tradition that he any language, though their fame is eclipsed by served for a while as an attorney's clerk. At the splendor of his dramatic poetry. They were the age of eighteen he was intimate with Anne dedicated by the publisher to a “Mr. W. H.," Hathaway, the daughter of a yeoman living near whom he styles their “only begetter," and of Stratford. This woman, who was eight years whom nothing is really known, though it has older than Shakespeare, bore a daughter in May, been conjectured that he was William Herbert, 1583, of which Shakespeare acknowledged the Earl of Pembroke. They seem to be addressed paternity by marrying the mother about six to various persons, some of them to, a beautiful months before the child was born. Nothing is young man, others to a beautiful and faithknown of his life for six or seven years, except less woman. A few belong to the class which that two other children were born to him. In may be called “occasional.” But whatever or 1589, at the age of twenty-five, he was an actor whoever prompted them, it is certain that they in London, where he had probably been living give us a better insight into Shakespeare's heart for three or four years. He soon began to write and character than any thing else he has writ. plays, at first in conjunction with Robert Greene ten. and Christopher Marlowe. At the age of twenty At some time between 1610 and 1613 Shakeeight he was already distinguished as a drama- speare left London forever, and took up his abode tist. In 1593 appeared his first published poem, in his native town of Stratford, where he had “Venus and Adonis," of which five editions purchased, as his residence, the largest and best were called for within nine years. It was dedi. house in the town, and where he lived as "a cated to the Earl of Southampton, an amiable gentleman in easy circumstances " until April and accomplished nobleman, who was exceed 23, 1616, when he died, at the age of fifty-two, ingly kind to the author, and, it is said, at one tradition says of a fever. Little more than what time made him a present of a thousand pounds, we have stated is known of his life. In characa sum equivalent, in those days, to five or six ter he was deemed honest, sweet, and gentle, thousand 'in ours. In 1594 Shakespeare pub- | by the best of his contemporaries. In person lished “Lucrece," a poem which he also dedi- he was handsome and dignified, with a large cated to Southampton. His earliest plays, writ- and well-shaped head. His body was buried ten before 1592, seem to have been “The Tam. in the chancel of Stratford Church, where ing of a Shrew," " King Henry VI.," " Titus there is a monument to him with a very poor Andronicus," " Love's Labor's Lost," "The Two | bust. Gentlemen of Verona,” and “The Comedy of The editions of Shakespeare's plays are very Errors." Between 1595 and 1596, he probably numerous. The earliest, known as the first wrote in the following order: “Richard III.," | folio, was published in 1623, seven years after “All's Well that Ends Well," "A Midsummer the poet's death. It was carelessly printed, but Night's Dream,” “ King Richard II.," and "The contains the only authentic text. One of the Merchant of Venice." From 1596 to 1600 was most recent and convenient editions is that of his most productive period. In it be wrote “King Mrs. Mary Cowden Clarke, which gives the John," “King Henry IV.," “ The Merry Wives | text very carefully and judiciously. It was of Windsor," " As You Like It,” “Much Ado reprinted in one volume in New York, in 1868, about Nothing,” “King Henry V.,” “Twelfth by D. Appleton & Co. There are several Night,” and “Hamlet." In the following thir-German translations, of which Schlegel and teen years he wrote probably in the following Tieck's is singularly excellent. The best French order: “Troilus and Cressida,” “ Measure for translation is by F. Michel, and appeared in Measure,” “Othello," “King Lear,” “Mac. 1840.

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