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With him went Danger, cloth'd in rugged weed, For, from her back her garments she did tear,
Made of bear's skin, that him more dreadful made: And from her head oft rent her snarled hair:
Yet his own face was dreadful, nor did need

In her right hand a firebrand she did toss
Strange horror to deform his grisly shade ;

About her head, still roaming here and there;
A net in th’ one hand, and a rusty blade

As a dismayed deer in chace embost,
In th' other was: this mischief, that mishap; Forgetful of his safety, hath his right way lost.
With th' one his foes he threatened to invade,
With th' other he his friends meant to enwrap;

After them, went Displeasure and pleasance;
For, whom he could not kill, he practis’d to entrap.

He looking lumpish and full sullen sad,

And hanging down his heavy countenance;
Next him was Fear, all arm’d from top to toe, She chearful, fresh, and full of joyance glad,
Yet thought himself not safe enough thereby, As if no sorrow she nor felt, nor dread;
But fear'd each shadow moving to and fro:

That evil matched pair they seemed to be :
And his own arms when glittering he did spy, An angry wasp th' one in a vial had:
Or clashing heard, he fast away did fly,

Th’ other in her's a honey-lady bee ;
As ashes pale of hue, and wingy-heel’d;

Thus marched these six couples forth in fair degree,
And evermore on Danger fixʼd his eye,
Gainst whom he always bent a brazen shield, After all these there march'd a most fair dame,
Which his right hand unarmed fearfully did wield. Led of two grizly villains, th’ one Despight,

The other cleped Cruelty by name :
With him went Hope in rank, a handsome maid, She doleful lady, like a dreary spright,
Of chearful look and lovely to behold;

Call’d by strong charms out of eternal night, In silken samite she was light array'd,

Had death's own image figur'd in her face, And her fair locks were woven up in gold;

Full of sad signs, fearful to living sight;
She always smil'd, and in her hand did hold Yet in that Horror shew'd a seemly grace,
An holy water sprinkle, dipp'd in dew,

And with her feeble feet did move a comely pace.
With which she sprinkled favours manifold,
On whom she list, and did great liking shew;

Her breast all naked, as neat ivory,
Great liking unto many, but true love to few.

Without adorn of gold or silver bright,

Wherewith the craftsman wonts it beautify, And after them Dissemblance and Suspect

Of her due honour was despoiled quite, March'd in one rank, yet an unequal pair;

And a wide wound therein (O rueful sight!) For, she was gentle, and of mild aspect,

Entrenched deep with knife accursed keen, Courteous to all, and seeming debonnair,

Yet freshly bleeding forth her fainting sprite
Goodly adorned, and exceeding fair:

(The work of cruel hand) was to be seen,
Yet was that all but painted, and purloined, [hair, That dyed in sanguine red her skin all snowy clean.
And her bright brows were deck'd with borrowed
Her deeds were forged, and her words false coined,

At that wide orifice, her trembling heart
And always in her hand two clues of silk she twined.

Was drawn forth, and in silver bason laid,

Quite through transfixed with a deadly dart, But he was foul, ill-favoured, and grim,

And in her blood yet steaming fresh embay'd ; Under his eyebrows looking still askance;

And those two villains, which her steps upstaid,
And ever as Dissemblance laugh'd on him,

When her weak feet could scarcely her sustain,
He lour'd on her with dangerous eye-glance; And fading vital powers gan to fade,
Shewing his nature in his countenance;

Her forward still with torture did constrain,
His rolling eyes did never rest in place,

And evermore increased her consuming pain.
But walk'd each where, for fear of hid mischance,
Holding a lattice still before his face, [pass.

Next after her, the winged God himself
Through which he still did peep, as forward he did Came riding on a lion ravenous,

Taught to obey the manage of that elf, Next him went Grief and Fury match'd yfere; That man and beast with power imperious Grief, all in sable sorrowfully clad,

Subdueth to his kingdom tyrannous: Down hanging his dull head, with heavy cheer, His blindfold eyes he bade awhile unbind, Yet inly being more, than seeming sad:

That his proud spoil of that same dolorous
A pair of pincers in his hand he had,

Fair dame, he might behold in perfect kind;
With which he pinched people to the heart, Which seen, he much rejoiced in his cruel mind.
That from thenceforth a wretched life they lad,
In wilful languor and consuming smart,

Of which full proud, himself uprearing high,
Dying each day with inward wounds of dolour's dart. He looked round about with stern disdain ;

And did survey his goodly company : But Fury was full ill appareled

And marshalling the evil ordered train, In rags, that naked nigh she did appear,

With that the darts which his right hand did strain, With ghastful looks and dreadful drearihead; Full dreadfully he shook that all did quake,


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Like to the Thracian tyrant, who they say That one sure stroke he might unto him reach,
Unto his horses gave his guests for meat,

Whereby his strength’s essay he might him teach.
Till he himself was made their greedy prey, At last, from his victorious shield he drew
And torn in pieces by Alcides great;

The veil, which did his powerful light impeach;
So thought the Soldan in his folly's threat,

And coming full before his horses' view,
Either the Prince in pieces to have torn

As they upon him press'd, it plain to them did shew.
With his sharp wheels, in his first rage's heat,
Or under his fierce horses' feet have borne (scorn. Like lightening flash, that hath the gazer burned,
And trampled down in dust his thought's disdained So did the sight thereof their sense dismay,

That back again upon themselves they turned,
But the bold child that peril well espying,

And with their rider ran perforce away:
If he too rashly to his chariot drew,

Nor could the Soldan them from flying stay,
Gave way unto his horse's speedy flying,

With reins, or wonted rule, as well he knew.
And their resistless rigour did eschew.

Nought feared they, what he could do or say,
Yet, as he passed by, the Pagan threw

But th' only fear that was before their view;
A shivering dart with so impetuous force,

From which, like mazed deer, dismayfully they flew.
That had he not it shunn'd with heedful view,
It had himself transfixed, or his horse, (morse. Fast did they fly, as them their feet could bear,
Or made them both one mass withouten more re-

High over hills, and lowly over dales,

As they were follow'd of their former fear.
Oft drew the Prince unto his chariot nigh,

In vain the Pagan banns, and swears, and rails,
In hope some stroke to fasten on him near

And back with both his hands unto him hailes
But he was mounted in his seat so high,

The resty reins, regarded now no more :
And his wing-footed coursers him did bear

He to them calls and speaks, yet nought avails ;
So fast away, that ere his ready spear

They hear him not, they have forgot his lore, [lore.
He could advance, he far was gone and past.

But go which way they list, their guide they have for-
Yet still he him did follow every where,
And followed was of him likewise full fast:

As when the fiery-mouthed steeds, which drew
So long as in his steeds the flaming breath did last.

The sun's bright wain to Phaeton's decay,

Soon as they did the monstrous scorpion view,
Again, the Pagan threw another dart,

With ugly craples crawling in their way,
Of which he had with him abundant store,

The dreadful sight did them so sore affray,
On every side of his embattled cart,

That their well knowen courses they forwent;
And of all other weapons less or more,

And leading the ever burning lamp astray,
Which warlike uses had deviz'd of yore.

This lower world nigh all to ashes brent;
The wicked shaft guided through th' airie wide,

And left their scorched path yet in the firmament.
By some bad spirit, that it to mischief bore,
Staid not, till through his curat it did glide,

Such was the fury of these headstrong steeds,
And made a grisly wound in his enriven side.

Soon as the infant's sun-like shield they saw,

That all obedience, both to words and deeds,
Much was he grieved with that hapless throe,

They quite forgot, and scorn'd all former law;
That opened had the well-spring of his blood;

Through woods, and rocks, and mountains they did
But much the more that to his hateful foe

The iron chariot, and the wheels did tear, (draw
He might not come, to wreak his wrathful mood, And toss'd the Paynim, without fear or awe;
That made him rave, like to a lion wood;

From side to side they toss'd him here and there,
Which being wounded of the huntsman's hand Crying to them in vain, that n'ould his crying hear,
Cannot come near him in the covert wood,
Where he with boughs hath built his shady stand,

Yet still the Prince pursued him close behind,
And fenc'd himself about with many a flaming brand.

Oft making offer him to smite, but found

No easy means according to his mind.
Still when he sought t' approach unto him nigh,

At last, they have all overthrown to ground
His chariot wheels about him whirled round,

Quite topside turvey, and the Pagan bound
And made him back again as fast to fly;

Amongst the iron hooks and grapples keen,
And eke his steeds, like to an hungry hound,

Torn all to rags, and rent with many a wound,
That bunting after game hath carrion found,

That no whole piece of him was to be seen,
So cruelly did him pursue and chace,

But scattered all about, and strow'd upon the green.
That his good steed, all were he much renown'd
Por noble courage, and for hardy race,


Like as the cursed son of Theseus,

That following his chace in dewy morn,
Durst not endure their sight, but fled from place to

To fly his stepdame's love outrageous,

Of his own steeds was all to pieces torn,
Thus long they trac'd, and travers’d to and fro,

And his fair limbs left in the woods forlorn;
Seeking by every way to make some breach:

That for his sake Diana did lament,
Yet could the Prince not nigh unto him go,

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And all the woody nymphs did wail and mourn : Devis'd to work delight, was gathered there,
So was this Soldan rapt and all to rent,

And there by her were poured forth at fill,
That of his shape appear'd no little moniment. As if this to adorn, she all the rest did pill.
Only his shield and armour, which there lay, Unto this place when as the elfin knight
Though nothing whole, but all so bruis’d and broken Approach’d, him seemed that the merry sound
did take, and with him brought away,

Of a shrill pipe he playing heard on hight, That might remain for an eternal token

And many feet fast thumping th' hollow ground, To all, mongst whom this story should be spoken, That through the woods their echo did rebound. How worthily, by heaven's high decree,

He nigher drew, to weet what might it be; Justice that day of wrong herself had wroken; There he a troop of ladies dancing found That all men which that spectacle did see,

Full merrily, and making gladful glee, By like example might for ever warned be.

And in the midst a shepherd piping he did see.

He durst not enter into the open green

For dread of them unwares to be descried,
Who now does follow the foul blatant beast,

For breaking of their dance, if he were seen; While Calidore does follow that fair maid,

But in the covert of the wood did bide,
Unmindful of his vow and high behest,

Beholding all, yet of them unespied.
Which, by the fairy queen, was on him laid, There he did see, that pleased much his sight,
That he should never leave, nor be delay'd

That even he himself his eyes envied,
From chacing him, till he had it atchiev'd?

An hundred naked maidens lily white,
But now, entrapp'd of love, which him betray'd, All ranged in a ring, and dancing in delight.
He mindeth more, how he may be relieved
With grace from her, whose love his heart hath sore

All they without were ranged in a ring, engrieved;

And danced round; but in the midst of them

Three other ladies did both dance and sing, That from henceforth he means no more to sue That while the rest them round about did hem, His former guest, so full of toil and pain;

And like a garland did in compass stem : Another guest, another game in view

And in the midst of those same three was placed He hath, the guerdon of his love to gain;

Another damsel, as a precious gem With whom he minds for ever to remain,

Amidst a ring most richly well enchaced, [graced. And set his rest among the rustic sort,

That with her goodly presence all the rest much
Rather than hunt still after shadows vain

Look how the crown, which Ariadne wore
Of courtly favour, fed with light report
Of every blast, and sailing always in the port. Upon her ivory forehead that same day

That Theseus her unto his bridal bore
Nor certes might he greatly blamed be,

(When the bold Centaurs made that bloody fray From so high step, to stoop unto so low.

With the fierce Lapithes which did them dismay)
For, who had tasted once (as oft did he)

Being now placed in the firmament,
The happy peace, which there doth overflow, Through the bright heavens doth her beams display,
And prov'd the perfect pleasures which do grow And is unto the stars an ornament,

Which round about her move in order excellent:
Amongst poor hinds, in hills, in woods, in dales,
Would never more delight in painted show

Such was the beauty of this goodly band,
Of such false bliss, as there is set for stales,

Whose sundry parts were here too long to tell:
T entrap unwary fools in their eternal bales.

But she that in the midst of them did stand,
For, what hath all that goodly glorious gaze Seem'd all the rest in beauty to excel,
Like to one sight, which Calidore did view? Crown'd with a rosy garland, that right well
The glance whereof their dimmed eyes would daze, Did her beseem. And ever, as the crew
That never more they should endure the shew About her danc'd, sweet flowers, that far did smell,
Of that sunshine, that makes them look askew: And fragrant odours they upon her threw;
Nor aught in all that world of beauties rare But most of all, those three did her with gifts endue.
(Save only Gloriana's heavenly hue;
To which what can compare :) can it compare ;

Those were the Graces, daughters of delight,
The which, as cometh now by course, I will declare.

Handmaids of Venus, which are wont to haunt

Upon this hill, and dance there day and night: One day as he did range the fields abroad,

Those three to men all gifts of grace do grant, While his fạir Pastorella was elsewhere,

And all, that Venus in herself doth vaunt,
He chanc'd to come, far from all people's troad, Is borrowed of them. But that fair one,
Unto a place, whose pleasance did appear

That in the midst was placed paravant,
To pass all others, on the earth which were: Was she to whom that shepherd pip'd alone,
For, all that ever was by nature's skill

That made him pipe so merrily, as never none.

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She was to weet that jolly shepherd's lass, As he this way coming from feastful glee

Of Thetis wedding with Æacidee,
Which piped there unto that merry rout;

In summer's shade himself here rested weary.
That jolly shepherd, which there piped, was
Poor Colin Clout (who knows not Colin Clout?) The first of them hight mild Euphirosyne;
He pip'd apace, while they him danc'd about. Next fair Aglaia; last Thalia merry, [cherry,

Sweet goddesses all three which me in mirth do
1 Pipe, jolly shepherd, pipe thou now apace
Unto thy love, that made thee low to lout;

“ These three on men all gracious gifts bestow,
Thy love is present there with thee in place,
Thy love is there advanc'd to be another Grace. Which deck the body or adorn the mind,

To make them lovely or well favoured show:
Much wonderd Calidore at this strange sight, As comely carriage, entertainment kind,
Whose like before his eye had never seen:

Sweet semblant, friendly offices that bind,
And standing long astonished in spright,

And all the compliments of courtesy:
And rapt with pleasance, wist not what to ween; They teach us, how to each degree and kind
Whether it were the train of beauty's queen, We should ourselves demean, to low, to high;
Or nymphs, or fairies, or enchanted show,

To friends, to foes: which skill men call civility.
With which his eyes might have deluded been.
Therefore resolving, what it was, to know,

“ Therefore they always smoothly seem to smile, Out of the wood he rose, and toward them did go.

That we likewise should mild and gentle be;

And also naked are, that without guile But soon as he appeared to their view,

Or false dissemblance all them plain may see,
They vanish'd all away out of his sight,

Simple and true from covert malice free:
And clean were gone, which way he never knew; And eke themselves so in their dance they bore,
Alt save the shepherd, who for fell despite

That two of them still forward seem'd to be,
Of that displeasure, broke his bagpipe quite, But one still towards shew'd herself afore; [store.
And made great moan for that uu happy turn. That good should from us go, then come in greater
But Calidore, though no less sorry wight,
For that mishap, yet seeing him to mourn, [learn. “Such were those goddesses which ye did see ;
Drew near, that he the truth of all by him might But that fourth maid, which there amidst them

Who can aread, what creature might she be, (traced,
And first him greeting, thus unto him spake; Whether a creature or a goddess graced
Hail, jolly shepherd! which thy joyous days With heavenly gifts from heaven first enraced?
Here leadest in this goodly merry-make,

But whatso'er she was, she worthy was
Frequented of these gentle nymphs always, To be the fourth, with those three other placed:
Which to thee flock, to hear thy lovely lays;

Yet was she certes but a country lass,
Tell me what might these dainty damsels be,

Yet she all other country lasses far did pass.
Which here with thee do make their pleasant plays?
Right happy thou, that mayst them freely see;

“ So far as doth the daughter of the day, Butwhy, when I them saw, fled they away from me?"

All other lesser lights in light excel,

So far doth she in beautiful array, “Not I so happy," answered then that swain, Above all other lasses bear the bell: " As thou unhappy, which them thence didst chace, Nor less in virtue that beseems her well, Whom by no means thou canst recall again.

Doth she exceed the rest of all her race;
For, being gone, none can them bring in place,

For which the Graces that here wont to dwell,
But whom they of themselves list so to grace.”

Have for more honour brought her to this place,
" Right sorry I,” said then Sir Calidore,

And graced her so much to be another Grace.
" That my ill fortune did them hence displace.
But since things passed none may now restore,

“ Another Grace she well deserves to be,
Tell me what were they all, whose lack thee grieves

In whom so many graces gathered are,
[so sore?"

Excelling much the mean of her degree;
Then gan that shepherd thus for to dilate;

Divine resemblance, beauty sovereign rare,
" Then wot thou, shepherd, whatsoe'er thou be, Firm chastity, that spite nor blemish dare;
That all those ladies, which thou sawest late,

All which she with such courtesy doth grace,
Are Venus' damsels, all within her fee,

That all her peers cannot with her compare,
But differing in honour and degree;

But quite are dimmed, when she is in place.
They all are Graces which on her depend,

She made me often pipe, and now to pipe apace.
Besides a thousand more, which ready be

“ Sun of the world, great glory of the sky,
Her to adorn, whenso she forth doth wend:

That all the earth dost lighten with thy rays,
But these three in the midst do chief on her attend.

Great Gloriana, greatest Majesty,

Pardon thy shepherd ʼmongst so many lays,
“They are the daughters of sky-ruling Jove,

As he hath sung of thee in all his days,
By him begot of fair Eurynome,

To make one minime of thy poor handmaid,
The Ocean's daughter, in this pleasant grove,


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And underneath thy feet to place her praise ; Keeping your beasts in the budded brooms;
That when thy glory shall be far display'd

And when the shining sun laugheth once,
To future age, of her this mention may be made." You deemen the spring is come at once:

Tho gin you, fond flies! the cold to scorn, When thus that shepherd ended had his speech,

And, crowing in pipes made of green corn, Said Calidore, “Now sure it irketh me,

You thinken to be lords of the year; 'That to thy bliss I made this luckless breach,

But eft when ye count you freed from fear, As now the author of thy bale to be,

Comes the breme winter with chamfred brows, Thus to bereave thy love's dear sight from thee:

Full of wrinkles and frosty furrows, But, gentle shepherd, pardon thou my shame,

Drearily shooting his stormy dart, Who rashly sought that which I might not see.”

Which cruddles the blood and pricks the heart: Thus did the courteous knight excuse his blame,

Then is your careless courage accoyd, And to recomfort him all comely means did frame.

Your careful herds with cold be annoyed: In such discourses they together spent

Then pay you the price of your surquedry, Long time, as fit occasion forth them led;

With weeping, and wailing, and misery. With which the knight himself did much content,

Cuddy. Ah, foolish old man! I scorn thy skill, And with delight his greedy fancy fed,

That wouldst me my springing youth to spill; Both of his words, which he with reason red;

I deem thy brain emperish'd be And also of the place, whose pleasures rare

Through rusty eld, that hath rotted thee; With such regard his senses ravished,

Or siker thy head very totty is, That thence he had no will away to fare, [ing share.

So on thy corb shoulder it leans amiss.
But wish'd that with that shepherd he might dwell-

Now thyself hath lost both lop and top,
Als my budding branch thou wouldest crop;
But were thy years green, as now been mine,

To other delights they would incline:

Tho wouldest thou learn to carol of love, (FROM THE SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR.)

And hery with hymus thy lass's glove; Cuddy. Ah, for pity! will rank winter's rage Tho wouldest thou pipe of Phillis' praise, These bitter blasts never 'gin t' assuage?

But Phillis is mine for many days: The keen cold blows through my beaten hide,

I won her with a girdle of gelt, All as I were through the body gride:

Emboss'd with bugle about the belt; My ragged ronts all shiver and shake,

Such an one shepherds would make full fain, As done high towers in an earthquake:

Such an one would make thee young again. They wont in the wind wag their wriggle tails Thenot. Thou art a son of thy love to bost; Peark as a peacock; but now it avails.

All that is lent to love will be lost. Thenot. Leudly complainest, thou lazy lad,

Cuddy. Seest how brag yond bullock bears, Of winter's wrack for making thee sad?

So smirk, so smooth, his pricked ears ? Must not the world wend in his common course,

His horns been as brade as rainbow bent, From good to bad, and from bad to worse,

His dewlap as lythe as lass of Kent? From worse unto that is worst of all,

See how he venteth into the wind, And then return to his former fall ?

Weenest of love is not his mind ? Who will not suffer the stormy time,

Seemeth thy flock thy counsel can, Where will he live till the lusty prime?

So lustless been they, so weak, so wan; Self have I worn out thrice thirty years,

Clothed with cold, and hoary with frost, Some in much joy, many in many tears,

Thy flock's father his courage hath lost. Yet never complained of cold nor heat,

Thy ewes that wont to have blown bags, Of summer's flame, nor of winter's threat,

Like wailful widows hanging their crags ; Ne never was to Fortune foe-man,

The rather lambs been starv'd with cold, But gently took that ungently came ;

All for their master is lustless and old. And ever my flock was my chief care,

Thenot. Cuddy, I wot thou kenst little good, Winter or summer they mought well fare.

So vainly to advance thy headless hood; Cuddy. No marvel, Thenot, if thou can bear For youth is a bubble blown up with breath, Chearfully the winter's wrathful chear,

Whose wit is weakness, whose wage is death; For age and winter accord full nigh,

Whose way is wilderness, whose inn penaunce, This chill, that cold; this crooked, that wry; And stoop gallant age, the host of grievaunce. And as the low'ring weather looks down,

But shall I tell thee a tale of truth So seemest thou like Good Friday to frown;

Which I cond of Tityrus in my youth, But my flow'ring youth is foe to frost,

Keeping his sheep on the hills of Kent ? My ship unwont in storms to be tost.

Cuddy. To nought more, Thenot, my mind is bent Thenot. The sovereign of seas he blames in vain, Than to hear novels of his devise; That once sea-beat will to sea again:

They been so well thewed, and so wise, So loytrin glive you little heard-grooms,

What ever that good old man bespake.

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