The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, Volume 5 - Edmund Spenser
Now when high Iove, in whose almightie hand 1225
The care of kings and power of empires stand,
Sitting one day within his turret hye,
From whence he vewes with his black-lidded eye
Whatso the heaven in his wide vawte containes,
And all that in the deepest earth remaines, 1230
And troubled kingdome of wilde beasts behelde,
Whom not their kindly sovereigne did welde,
[_Welde_, govern.]
But an usurping Ape, with guile suborn'd,
Had all subverst, he sdeignfully it scorn'd
In his great heart, and hardly did refraine 1235
But that with thunder bolts he had him slaine,
And driven downe to hell, his dewest meed.
But him avizing, he that dreadfull deed
Forbore, and rather chose with scornfull shame
Him to avenge, and blot his brutish name 1240
Unto the world, that never after anie
Should of his race be voyd of infamie;
And his false counsellor, the cause of all,
To damne to death, or dole perpetuall,
From whence he never should be quit nor stal'd.
[_Stal'd_, forestalled (?).]
Forthwith he Mercurie unto him cal'd, 1246
And bad him flie with never-resting speed
Unto the forrest, where wilde beasts doo breed,
And, there enquiring privily, to learne
What did of late chaunce to the Lyon stearne, 1250
That he rul'd not the empire, as he ought;
And whence were all those plaints unto him brought
Of wrongs and spoyles by salvage beasts committed:
Which done, he bad the Lyon be remitted
Into his seate, and those same treachours vile 1255
[_Treachours_, traitors.]
Be punished for their presumptuous guile.
The sonne of Maia, soone as he receiv'd
That word, streight with his azure wings he cleav'd
The liquid clowdes and lucid firmament,
Ne staid till that he came with steep descent 1260
Unto the place where his prescript did showe.
There stouping, like an arrowe from a bowe,
He soft arrived on the grassie plaine,
And fairly paced forth with easie paine,
Till that unto the pallace nigh he came. 1265
Then gan he to himselfe new shape to frame,
And that faire face, and that ambrosiall hew,
Which wonts to decke the gods immortall crew,
And beautefie the shinie firmament,
He doft, unfit for that rude rabblement. 1270
So, standing by the gates in strange disguize,
He gan enquire of some in secret wize,
Both of the King, and of his government,
And of the Foxe, and his false blandishment:
And evermore he heard each one complaine 1275
Of foule abuses both in realme and raine:
Which yet to prove more true, he meant to see,
And an ey-witnes of each thing to bee.
Tho on his head his dreadfull hat he dight,
Which maketh him invisible in sight, 1280
And mocketh th'eyes of all the lookers on,
Making them thinke it but a vision.
Through power of that he runnes through enemies swerds;
Through power of that he passeth through the herds
Of ravenous wilde beasts, and doth beguile 1285
Their greedie mouthes of the expected spoyle;
Through power of that his cunning theeveries
He wonts to worke, that none the same espies;
And through the power of that he putteth on
What shape he list in apparition. 1290
That on his head he wore, and in his hand
He tooke caduceus, his snakie wand,
With which the damned ghosts he governeth,
And furies rules, and Tartare tempereth.
With that he causeth sleep to seize the eyes, 1295
And feare the harts, of all his enemyes;
And when him list, an universall night
Throughout the world he makes on everie wight;
As when his syre with Alcumena lay.
Thus dight, into the court he tooke his way, 1300
Both through the gard, which never him descride,
And through the watchmen, who him never spide:
Thenceforth he past into each secrete part,
Whereas he saw, that sorely griev'd his hart,
Each place abounding with fowle iniuries, 1305
And fild with treasure rackt with robberies;
Each place defilde with blood of guiltles beasts
Which had been slaine to serve the Apes beheasts;
Gluttonie, malice, pride, and covetize,
And lawlesnes raigning with riotize; 1310
Besides the infinite extortions,
Done through the Foxes great oppressions,
That the complaints thereof could not be tolde.
Which when he did with lothfull eyes beholde,
He would no more endure, but came his way, 1315
And cast to seeke the Lion, where he may,
[_Cast_, projected.]
That he might worke the avengement for this shame
On those two caytives which had bred him blame
And seeking all the forrest busily,
At last he found where sleeping he did ly. 1320
The wicked weed which there the Foxe did lay
From underneath his head he tooke away,
And then him, waking, forced up to rize.
The Lion, looking up, gan him avize,
[_Avize_, bethink.]
As one late in a traunce, what had of long 1325
Become of him: for fantasie is strong.
"Arise," said Mercurie, "thou sluggish beast,
That here liest senseles, like the corpse deceast,
The whilste thy kingdome from thy head is rent,
And thy throne royall with dishonour blent: 1330
[_Blent_, stained.]
Arise, and doo thy selfe redeeme from shame,
And be aveng'd on those that breed thy blame."
Thereat enraged, soone he gan upstart,
Grinding his teeth, and grating his great hart;
And, rouzing up himselfe, for his rough hide 1335
He gan to reach; but no where it espide.
Therewith he gan full terribly to rore,
And chafte at that indignitie right sore.
But when his crowne and scepter both he wanted,
Lord! how he fum'd, and sweld, and rag'd, and panted,
And threatned death and thousand deadly dolours
To them that had purloyn'd his princely honours.
With that in hast, disroabed as he was,
He toward his owne pallace forth did pas;
And all the way he roared as he went, 1345
That all the forrest with astonishment
Thereof did tremble, and the beasts therein
Fled fast away from that so dreadfull din.
At last he came unto his mansion,
Where all the gates he found fast lockt anon 1350
And manie warders round about them stood:
With that he roar'd alowd, as he were wood,
[_Wood_, frantic.]
That all the pallace quaked at the stound,
[_Stound_, (time, scene) tumult.]
As if it quite were riven from the ground,
And all within were dead and hartles left; 1355
And th'Ape himselfe, as one whose wits were reft,
Fled here and there, and everie corner sought.
To hide himselfe from his owne feared thought.
But the false Foxe, when he the Lion heard,
Fled closely forth, streightway of death afeard, 1360
[_Closely_, secretly.]
And to the Lion came, full lowly creeping,
With fained face, and watrie eyne halfe weeping,
T'excuse his former treason and abusion,
And turning all unto the Apes confusion:
Nath'les the royall beast forbore beleeving, 1365
But bad him stay at ease till further preeving.
[_Preeving_, proving.]
Then when he saw no entrance to him graunted,
Roaring yet lowder that all harts it daunted,
Upon those gates with force he fiercely newe,
And, rending them in pieces, felly slewe 1370
Those warders strange, and all that els he met
But th'Ape still flying he no where might get:
From rowme to rowme, from beame to beame he fled,
All breathles, and for feare now almost ded:
Yet him at last the Lyon spide, and caught, 1375
And forth with shame unto his iudgement brought.
Then all the beasts he causd' assembled bee,
To heare their doome, and sad ensample see:
The Foxe, first author of that treacherie
He did uncase, and then away let flie. 1380
[_Uncase_, strip of his disguise.]
But th'Apes long taile (which then he had) he quight
Cut off, and both eares pared of their hight;
Since which, all Apes but halfe their eares have left,
And of their tailes are utterlie bereft.
So Mother Hubberd her discourse did end: 1385
Which pardon me if I amisse have pend,
For weake was my remembrance it to hold,
And bad her tongue that it so bluntly tolde.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES:
MOTHER HUBBERDS TALE. This charming little poem, Spenser's only
successful effort at satire, is stated by the author to have been
composed in the raw conceit of his youth. There is internal evidence,
however, that some of the happiest passages were added at the date of
its publication, at which time the whole was probably retouched.
Although Mother Hubberds Tale is in its plan an imitation of the
satires of Reynard the Fox; the treatment of the subject is quite
original. For the combination of elegance with simplicity, this poem
will stand a comparison with Goethe's celebrated translation of the
Reineke. C.
Ver. I.--_It was the month_, &c. August.
Ver. 453.--_Diriges_, dirges. The office for the dead received this
name from the antiphon with which the first nocturne in the mattens
commenced, taken from Psalm v. 8, "Dirige, Domine Deus meus, in
conspectu tuo viam meam." Way's _Promptorium Parvulorum._ C.
Ver. 519.--_Scarse can a bishoprick_, &c. This is probably an allusion
to the frequent alienations of the lands and manors of bishoprics in
Elizabeth's time. TODD.
Ver. 562.--_The ordinarie._ An ordinary is a judge having jurisdiction
in ecclesiastical matters. In England, it is usually the bishop of the
diocese. H.
Ver. 623, 624.--The Queen was so much pleased with the results of the
Portugal expedition of 1589, that she honored the commanders, and Sir
Walter Raleigh among the rest, with a gold chain. C.
Ver. 717.--_The brave courtier_, &c. This description is perhaps
intended for Sir Philip Sidney. C.
Ver. 893.--Had-ywist. That is, _had I wist! had I known_ that it would
end so! a proverbial expression for late repentance consequent on
disappointment. C.
Ver. 901.--_To have thy Princes grace, yet want her Peeres._ Elizabeth
was said to have granted Spenser a pension which Burghley intercepted,
and to have ordered him a gratuity which her minister neglected to pay.
C.
Ver. 913.--_Himselfe will a daw trie._ So the old copy: the reading
should probably be _himselfe a daw will trie_, prove or find himself by
experience to be a daw or fool. C.
Ver. 1189.--_Of men of armes,_ &c. This passage certainly provokes an
application to Lord Burghley, and was probably intended for him. C.
* * * * *
RUINES OF ROME:
BY BELLAY*
[* Joachim du Bellay, a French poet of considerable reputation in his
day, died in 1560. These sonnets are translated from _Le Premier Livre
des Antiquez de Rome_. Further on we have the Visions of Bellay,
translated from the _Songes_ of the same author. The best that can be
said of these sonnets seems to be, that they are not inferior to the
original. C.]
I.
Ye heavenly spirites, whose ashie cinders lie
Under deep ruines, with huge walls opprest,
But not your praise, the which shall never die
Through your faire verses, ne in ashes rest;
If so be shrilling voyce of wight alive
May reach from hence to depth of darkest hell,
Then let those deep abysses open rive,
That ye may understand my shreiking yell!
Thrice having seene under the heavens veale
Your toombs devoted compasse over all,
Thrice unto you with lowd voyce I appeale,
And for your antique furie here doo call,
The whiles that I with sacred horror sing
Your glorie, fairest of all earthly thing!
II.
Great Babylon her haughtie walls will praise,
And sharped steeples high shot up in ayre;
Greece will the olde Ephesian buildings blaze,
And Nylus nurslings their Pyramidcs faire;
The same yet vaunting Greece will tell the storie
Of Ioves great image in Olympus placed;
Mausolus worke will be the Carians glorie,
And Crete will boast the Labyrinth, now raced;
The antique Rhodian will likewise set forth
The great Colosse, erect to Memorie;
And what els in the world is of like worth,
Some greater learned wit will magnifie.
But I will sing above all moniments
Seven Romane Hils, the worlds seven wonderments.
III.
Thou stranger, which for Rome in Rome hero seekest,
And nought of Rome in Rome perceiv'st at all,
These same olde walls, olde arches, which thou seest,
Olde palaces, is that which Rome men call.
Beholde what wreake, what mine, and what wast,
And how that she which with her mightie powre
Tam'd all the world hath tam'd herselfe at last;
The pray of Time, which all things doth devowre!
Rome now of Rome is th'onely funerall,
And onely Rome of Rome hath victorie;
Ne ought save Tyber hastning to his fall
Remaines of all: O worlds inconstancie!
That which is firme doth flit and fall away,
And that is flitting doth abide and stay.
IV.
She whose high top above the starres did sore,
One foote on Thetis, th'other on the Morning,
One hand on Scythia, th'other on the More,
Both heaven and earth in roundnesse compassing;
Iove fearing, least if she should greater growe,
The old giants should once againe uprise,
Her whelm'd with hills, these seven hils, which be nowe
Tombes of her greatnes which did threate the skies:
Upon her head he heapt Mount Saturnal,
Upon her bellie th'antique Palatine,
Upon her stomacke laid Mount Quirinal,
On her left hand the noysome Esquiline,
And Caelian on the right; but both her feete
Mount Viminal and Aventine doo meete.
V.
Who lists to see what ever nature, arte,
And heaven could doo, O Rome, thee let him see,
In case thy greatnes he can gesse in harte
By that which but the picture is of thee!
Rome is no more: but if the shade of Rome
May of the bodie yeeld a seeming sight,
It's like a corse drawne forth out of the tombe
By magicke skill out of eternall night:
The corpes of Rome in ashes is entombed,
And her great spirite, reioyned to the spirite
Of this great masse, is in the same enwombed;
But her brave writings, which, her famous merite
In spight of Time out of the dust doth reare,
Doo make her idole* through the world appeare.
[* _Idole_, image, idea.]
VI.
Such as the Berecynthian goddesse bright,
In her swifte charret with high turrets crownde,
Proud that so manie gods she brought to light,
Such was this citie in her good daies fownd:
This citie, more than that great Phrygian mother
Renowm'd for fruite of famous progenie,
Whose greatnes by the greatnes of none other,
But by her selfe, her equall match could see:
Rome onely might to Rome compared bee,
And onely Rome could make great Rome to tremble:
So did the gods by heavenly doome decree,
That other earthlie power should not resemble
Her that did match the whole earths puissaunce,
And did her courage to the heavens advaunce.
VII.
Ye sacred ruines, and ye tragick sights,
Which onely doo the name of Rome retaine,
Olde moniments, which of so famous sprights
The honour yet in ashes doo maintaine,
Triumphant arcks, spyres neighbours to the skie,
That you to see doth th'heaven it selfe appall,
Alas! by little ye to nothing flie,
The peoples fable, and the spoyle of all!
And though your frames do for a time make warre
Gainst Time, yet Time in time shall ruinate
Your workes and names, and your last reliques marre.
My sad desires, rest therefore moderate!
For if that Time make ende of things so sure,
It als will end the paine which I endure.
VIII.
Through armes and vassals Rome the world subdu'd,
That one would weene that one sole cities strength
Both land and sea in roundnes had survew'd,
To be the measure of her bredth and length:
This peoples vertue yet so fruitfull was
Of vertuous nephewes*, that posteritie,
Striving in power their grandfathers to passe,
The lowest earth ioin'd to the heaven hie;
To th'end that, having all parts in their power,
Nought from the Romane Empire might be quight**;
And that though Time doth commonwealths devowre,
Yet no time should so low embase their hight,
That her head, earth'd in her foundations deep,
Should not her name and endles honour keep.
[* _Nephewes_, descendants.]
[** _Quight_, quit, free.]
IX.
Ye cruell starres, and eke ye gods unkinde,
Heaven envious, and bitter stepdame Nature!
Be it by fortune, or by course of kinde*,
That ye doo weld th'affaires of earthlie creature;
Why have your hands long sithence traveiled
To frame this world, that doth endure so long?
Or why were not these Romane palaces
Made of some matter no lesse firme and strong?
I say not, as the common voyce doth say,
That all things which beneath the moone have being
Are temporall and subiect to decay:
But I say rather, though not all agreeing
With some that weene the contrarie in thought,
That all this whole shall one day come to nought.
[* _Kinde_, nature.]
X.
As that brave sonne of Aeson, which by charmes
Atcheiv'd the golden fleece in Colchid land,
Out of the earth engendred men of armes
Of dragons teeth, sowne in the sacred sand,
So this brave towne, that in her youthlie daies
An hydra was of warriours glorious,
Did fill with her renowmed nourslings praise
The firie sunnes both one and other hous:
But they at last, there being then not living
An Hercules so ranke seed to represse,
Emongst themselves with cruell furie striving,
Mow'd downe themselves with slaughter mercilesse;
Renewing in themselves that rage unkinde,
Which whilom did those earthborn brethren blinde.
XI.
Mars, shaming to have given so great head
To his off-spring, that mortall puissaunce,
Puft up with pride of Romane hardiehead,
Seem'd above heavens powre it selfe to advaunce,
Cooling againe his former kindled heate
With which he had those Romane spirits fild.
Did blowe new fire, and with enflamed breath
Into the Gothicke colde hot rage instil'd.
Then gan that nation, th'earths new giant brood,
To dart abroad the thunderbolts of warre,
And, beating downe these walls with furious mood
Into her mothers bosome, all did marre;
To th'end that none, all were it* love his sire,
Should boast himselfe of the Romane empire.
[* _All were it_, although it were.]
XII.
Like as whilome the children of the earth
Heapt hils on hils to scale the starrie skie,
And fight against the gods of heavenly berth,
Whiles Iove at them his thunderbolts let flie;
All suddenly with lightning overthrowne,
The furious squadrons downe to ground did fall,
That th'earth under her childrens weight did grone,
And th'heavens in glorie triumpht over all;
So did that haughtie front, which heaped was
On these seven Romane hils, it selfe upreare
Over the world, and lift her loftie face
Against the heaven, that gan her force to feare.
But now these scorned fields bemone her fall,
And gods secure feare not her force at all.
XIII.
Nor the swift furie of the flames aspiring,
Nor the deep wounds of victours raging blade,
Nor ruthlesse spoyle of souldiers blood-desiring,
The which so oft thee, Rome, their conquest made,
Ne stroke on stroke of fortune variable,
Ne rust of age hating continuance,
Nor wrath of gods, nor spight of men unstable,
Nor thou oppos'd against thine owne puissance,
Nor th'horrible uprore of windes high blowing,
Nor swelling streames of that god snakie-paced*
Which hath so often with his overflowing
Thee drenched, have thy pride so much abaced,
But that this nothing, which they have thee left,
Makes the world wonder what they from thee reft.
[* _Snakie-paced_, winding; or perhaps (like Ovid's _anguipes_) swift.]
XIV.
As men in summer fearles passe the foord
Which is in winter lord of all the plaine,
And with his tumbling streames doth beare aboord*
The ploughmans hope and shepheards labour vaine,
And as the coward beasts use to despise
The noble lion after his lives end,
Whetting their teeth, and with vaine foolhardise
Daring the foe that cannot him defend,
And as at Troy most dastards of the Greekes
Did brave about the corpes of Hector colde,
So those which whilome wont with pallid cheekes
The Romane triumphs glorie to behold,
Now on these ashie tombes shew boldnesse vaine,
And, conquer'd, dare the conquerour disdaine.
[*_Aboord_, into the current.]
XV.
Ye pallid spirits, and ye ashie ghoasts,
Which, ioying in the brightnes of your day,
Brought foorth those signes of your presumptuous boasts
Which now their dusty reliques do bewray,
Tell me, ye spirits! (sith the darksome river
Of Styx, not passable to soules returning,
Enclosing you in thrice three wards for ever,
Doo not restraine your images still mourning,)
Tell me then, (for perhaps some one of you
Yet here above him secretly doth hide,)
Doo ye not feele your torments to accrewe,
When ye sometimes behold the ruin'd pride
Of these old Romane works, built with your hands,
To become nought els but heaped sands?
XVI.
Like as ye see the wrathfull sea from farre
In a great mountaine heap't with hideous noyse,
Eftsoones of thousand billowes shouldred narre*,
Against a rocke to breake with dreadfull poyse;
Like as ye see fell Boreas with sharpe blast
Tossing huge tempests through the troubled skie,
Eftsoones having his wide wings spent in wast,
To stop his wearie cariere** suddenly;
And as ye see huge flames spred diverslie,
Gathered in one up to the heavens to spyre,
Eftsoones consum'd to fall downe feebily,
So whilom did this monarchie aspyre
As waves, as winde, as fire, spred over all,
Till it by fatall doome adowne did fall.
[* _Narre_, nearer.]
[** _Cariere_, career.]
XVII.
So long as Ioves great bird did make his flight,
Bearing the fire with which heaven doth us fray,
Heaven had not feare of that presumptuous might,
With which the giaunts did the gods assay:
But all so soone as scortching sunne had brent*
His wings which wont the earth to overspredd,
The earth out of her massie wombe forth sent
That antique horror which made heaven adredd.
Then was the Germane raven in disguise
That Romane eagle seene to cleave asunder,
And towards heaven freshly to arise
Out of these mountaines, now consum'd to pouder.
In which the foule that serves to beare the lightning
Is now no more seen flying nor alighting.
[* _Brent_, burned.]
XVIII.
These heapes of stones, these old wals which ye see,
Were first enclosures but of salvage soyle;
And these brave pallaces, which maystred bee
Of time, were shepheards cottages somewhile.
Then tooke the shepheards kingly ornaments
And the stout hynde arm'd his right hand with steele:
Eftsoones their rule of yearely presidents
Grew great, and sixe months greater a great deele;
Which, made perpetuall, rose to so great might,
That thence th'imperiall eagle rooting tooke,
Till th'heaven it selfe, opposing gainst her might,
Her power to Peters successor betooke,
Who, shepheardlike, (as Fates the same foreseeing,)
Doth shew that all things turne to their first being.
[XVIII. 8.--_Sixe months_, &c. The term of the dictatorship at Rome.]
XIX.
All that is perfect, which th'heaven beautefies;
All that's imperfect, borne belowe the moone;
All that doth feede our spirits and our eies;
And all that doth consume our pleasures soone;
All the mishap the which our daies outweares;
All the good hap of th'oldest times afore,
Rome, in the time of her great ancesters,
Like a Pandora, locked long in store.
But destinie this huge chaos turmoyling,
In which all good and evill was enclosed,
Their heavenly vertues from these woes assoyling,
Caried to heaven, from sinfull bondage losed:
But their great sinnes, the causers of their paine,
Under these antique ruines yet remaine.
XX.
No otherwise than raynie cloud, first fed
With earthly vapours gathered in the ayre,
Eftsoones in compas arch't, to steepe his hed,
Doth plonge himselfe in Tethys bosome faire,
And, mounting up againe from whence he came,
With his great bellie spreds the dimmed world,
Till at the last, dissolving his moist frame,
In raine, or snowe, or haile, he forth is horld,
This citie, which was first but shepheards shade,
Uprising by degrees, grewe to such height
That queene of land and sea her selfe she made.
At last, not able to beare so great weight,
Her power, disperst, through all the world did vade*;
To shew that all in th'end to nought shall fade.
[* _Vade_, vanish.]
XXI.
The same which Pyrrhus and the puissaunce
Of Afrike could not tame, that same brave citie
Which, with stout courage arm'd against mischaunce,
Sustein'd the shocke of common enmitie,
Long as her ship, tost with so manie freakes,
Had all the world in armes against her bent,
Was never seene that anie fortunes wreakes
Could breake her course begun with brave intent.
But, when the obiect of her vertue failed,
Her power it selfe against it selfe did arme;
As he that having long in tempest sailed
Faine would arive, but cannot for the storme,
If too great winde against the port him drive,
Doth in the port it selfe his vessell rive.