The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, Volume 5 - Edmund Spenser
XXII.
When that brave honour of the Latine name,
Which mear'd* her rule with Africa and Byze**,
With Thames inhabitants of noble fame,
And they which see the dawning day arize,
Her nourslings did with mutinous uprore
Harten against her selfe, her conquer'd spoile,
Which she had wonne from all the world afore,
Of all the world was spoyl'd within a while:
So, when the compast course of the universe
In sixe and thirtie thousand yeares is ronne,
The bands of th'elements shall backe reverse
To their first discord, and be quite undonne;
The seedes of which all things at first were bred
Shall in great Chaos wombe againe be hid.
[* _Mear'd_, bounded.]
[** _Byze_, Byzantium.]
XXIII.
O warie wisedome of the man* that would
That Carthage towres from spoile should be forborne,
To th'end that his victorious people should
With cancring laisure not be overworne!
He well foresaw how that the Romane courage,
Impatient of pleasures faint desires,
Through idlenes would turne to civill rage,
And be her selfe the matter of her fires.
For in a people given all to ease,
Ambition is engendred easily;
As, in a vicious bodie, grose disease
Soone growes through humours superfluitie.
That came to passe, when, swolne with plenties pride,
Nor prince, nor peere, nor kin, they would abide.
[* I.e. Scipio Nasica.]
XXIV.
If the blinde Furie which warres breedeth oft
Wonts not t'enrage the hearts of equall beasts,
Whether they fare on foote, or flie aloft,
Or armed be with clawes, or scalie creasts,
What fell Erynnis, with hot burning tongs,
Did grype your hearts with noysome rage imbew'd,
That, each to other working cruell wrongs,
Your blades in your owne bowels you embrew'd?
Was this, ye Romanes, your hard destinie?
Or some old sinne, whose unappeased guilt
Powr'd vengeance forth on you eternallie?
Or brothers blood, the which at first was spilt
Upon your walls, that God might not endure
Upon the same to set foundation sure?
XXV.
O that I had the Thracian poets harpe,
For to awake out of th'infernall shade
Those antique Caesars, sleeping long in darke,
The which this auncient citie whilome made!
Or that I had Amphions instrument,
To quicken with his vitall notes accord
The stonie ioynts of these old walls now rent,
By which th'Ausonian light might be restor'd!
Or that at least I could with pencill fine
Fashion the pourtraicts of these palacis,
By paterne of great Virgils spirit divine!
I would assay with that which in me is
To builde, with levell of my loftie style,
That which no hands can evermore compyle.
XXVI.
Who list the Romane greatnes forth to figure,
Him needeth not to seeke for usage right
Of line, or lead, or rule, or squaire, to measure
Her length, her breadth, her deepnes, or her hight;
But him behooves to vew in compasse round
All that the ocean graspes in his long armes;
Be it where the yerely starre doth scortch the ground,
Or where colde Boreas blowes his bitter stormes.
Rome was th'whole world, and al the world was Rome;
And if things nam'd their names doo equalize,
When land and sea ye name, then name ye Rome,
And, naming Rome, ye land and sea comprize:
For th'auncient plot of Rome, displayed plaine,
The map of all the wide world doth containe.
XXVII.
Thou that at Rome astonisht dost behold
The antique pride which menaced the skie,
These haughtie heapes, these palaces of olde,
These wals, these arcks, these baths, these temples his,
Iudge, by these ample ruines vew, the rest
The which iniurious time hath quite outworne,
Since, of all workmen helde in reckning best,
Yet these olde fragments are for paternes borne:
Then also marke how Rome, from day to day,
Repayring her decayed fashion,
Renewes herselfe with buildings rich and gay;
That one would iudge that the Romaine Daemon*
Doth yet himselfe with fatall hand enforce
Againe on foot to reare her pouldred** corse.
[* _Romaine Daemon_, Genius of Rome.]
[** _Pouldred_, reduced to dust.]
XXVIII.
He that hath seene a great oke drie and dead,
Yet clad with reliques of some trophees olde,
Lifting to heaven her aged hoarie head,
Whose foote in ground hath left but feeble holde,
But halfe disbowel'd lies above the ground,
Shewing her wreathed rootes, and naked armes,
And on her trunke all rotten and unsound
Onely supports herselfe for meate of wormes,
And, though she owe her fall to the first winde,
Yet of the devout people is ador'd,
And manie yong plants spring out of her rinde;
Who such an oke hath seene, let him record
That such this cities honour was of yore,
And mongst all cities florished much more.
XXIX.
All that which Aegypt whilome did devise,
All that which Greece their temples to embrave,
After th'Ionicke, Atticke, Doricke guise,
Or Corinth skil'd in curious workes to grave,
All that Lysippus practike* arte could forme,
Apelles wit, or Phidias his skill,
Was wont this auncient citie to adorne,
And the heaven it selfe with her wide wonders fill.
All that which Athens ever brought forth wise,
All that which Afrike ever brought forth strange,
All that which Asie ever had of prise,
Was here to see. O mervelous great change!
Rome, living, was the worlds sole ornament;
And, dead, is now the worlds sole moniment.
[* _Practike_, cunning.]
XXX.
Like as the seeded field greene grasse first showes,
Then from greene grasse into a stalke doth spring,
And from a stalke into an eare forth-growes,
Which eare the frutefull graine doth shortly bring,
And as in season due the husband* mowes
The waving lockes of those faire yeallow heares,
Which, bound in sheaves, and layd in comely rowes,
Upon the naked fields in stalkes he reares,
So grew the Romane empire by degree,
Till that barbarian hands it quite did spill,
And left of it but these olde markes to see,
Of which all passers by doo somewhat pill**,
As they which gleane, the reliques use to gather
Which th'husbandman behind him chanst to scater.
[* _Husband_, husbandman.]
[** _Pill_, plunder.]
XXXI.
That same is now nought but a champian wide,
Where all this worlds pride once was situate.
No blame to thee, whosoever dost abide
By Nyle, or Gange, or Tygre, or Euphrate;
Ne Afrike thereof guiltie is, nor Spaine,
Nor the bolde people by the Thamis brincks,
Nor the brave warlicke brood of Alemaine,
Nor the borne souldier which Rhine running drinks.
Thou onely cause, O Civill Furie, art!
Which, sowing in th'Aemathian fields thy spight,
Didst arme thy hand against thy proper hart;
To th'end that when thou wast in greatest hight
To greatnes growne, through long prosperitie,
Thou then adowne might'st fall more horriblie.
[XXXI. 10.--_Aemathian fields_. Thessalian fields; alluding to the
battle fought at Pharsalia, in Thessaly, between Caesar and Pompey. H.]
XXXII.
Hope ye, my Verses, that posteritie
Of age ensuing shall you ever read?
Hope ye that ever immortalitie
So meane harpes worke may chalenge for her meed?
If under heaven anie endurance were,
These moniments, which not in paper writ,
But in porphyre and marble doo appeare,
Might well have hop'd to have obtained it.
Nath'les, my Lute, whom Phoebus deigned to give,
Cease not to sound these olde antiquities:
For if that Time doo let thy glorie live,
Well maist thou boast, how ever base thou bee,
That thou art first which of thy nation song
Th'olde honour of the people gowned long.
L'ENVOY.
Bellay, first garland of free poesie
That France brought forth, though fruitfull of brave wits,
Well worthie thou of immortalitie,
That long hast traveld*, by thy learned writs,
Olde Rome out of her ashes to revive,
And give a second life to dead decayes!
Needes must he all eternitie survive,
That can to other give eternall dayes.
Thy dayes therefore are endles, and thy prayse
Excelling all that ever went before:
And, after thee, gins Bartas hie to rayse
His heavenly Muse, th'Almightie to adore.
Live happie spirits, th'honour of your name,
And fill the world with never dying fame!
[* _Traveld_, travailed, toiled.]
L'Envoy, 11.--_Bartas_. Guillaume de Salluste du Bartas, a French poet
of the time of Henry IV, of extraordinary popularity in his day. His
poem on the Creation is said to have been reprinted more than thirty
times in six years, and was translated into several languages; among
others, into English by Joshua Sylvester. H.
MUIOPOTMOS:
OR
THE FATE OF THE BUTTERFLIE.
BY ED. SP.
DEDICATED TO THE MOST FAIRE AND VERTUOUS LADIE,
THE LADIE CAREY.
LONDON:
IMPRINTED FOR WILLIAM PONSONBIE, DWELLING IN PAULES
CHURCHYARD AT THE SIGNE OF THE BISHOPS HEAD.
1590*
[* This date seems to be an error for 1591; or, as Mr. Craik suggests,
it may have been used designedly with reference to real events, not yet
ascertained, which furnished the subject of this very pleasing
allegory. The Visions of the Worlds Vanitie, which follow this piece,
may be suspected of a similar application. C.]
TO THE RIGHT WORTHY AND VERTUOUS LADIE, THE LA: CAREY.
Most brave and bountifull La: for so excellent favours as I have
received at your sweet handes, to offer these fewe leaves as in
recompence, should be as to offer flowers to the gods for their divine
benefites. Therefore I have determined to give my selfe wholy to you,
as quite abandoned from my selfe, and absolutely vowed to your
services: which in all right is ever held for full recompence of debt
or damage, to have the person yeelded. My person I wot wel how little
worth it is. But the faithfull minde and humble zeale which I bear unto
your La: may perhaps be more of price, as may please you to account and
use the poore service thereof; which taketh glory to advance your
excellent partes and noble vertues, and to spend it selfe in honouring
you; not so much for your great bounty to my self, which yet may not be
unminded; nor for name or kindreds* sake by you vouchsafed, beeing
also regardable; as for that honorable name, which yee have by your
brave deserts purchast to your self, and spred in the mouths of al men:
with which I have also presumed to grace my verses, and, under your
name, to commend to the world this smal poeme; the which beseeching
your La: to take in worth, and of all things therein according to your
wonted graciousnes to make a milde construction, I humbly pray for your
happines.
Your La: ever
humbly,
E. S.
[Footnote: "This lady was Elizabeth, one of the six daughters of Sir
John Spencer, of Althorpe, in Northamptonshire, and was married to Sir
George Carey, who became Lord Hunsdon on the death of his father, in
1596."--TODD.]
MUIOPOTMOS:
OR
THE FATE OF THE BUTTERFLIE.
* * * * *
I sing of deadly dolorous debate,
Stir'd up through wrathful! Nemesis despight,
Betwixt two mightie ones of great estate,
Drawne into armes and proofe of mortall fight
Through prowd ambition and hart-swelling hate, 5
Whilest neither could the others greater might
And sdeignfull scorne endure; that from small iarre
Their wraths at length broke into open warre.
The roote whereof and tragicall effect,
Vouchsafe, O thou the mournfulst Muse of nyne, 10
That wontst the tragick stage for to direct,
In funerall complaints and waylfull tyne*
Reveale to me, and all the meanes detect
Through which sad Clarion did at last declyne
To lowest wretchednes: And is there then 15
Such rancour in the harts of mightie men?
[* _Tyne_, grief.]
Of all the race of silver-winged flies
Which doo possesse the empire of the aire,
Betwixt the centred earth and azure skies
Was none more favourable nor more faire, 20
Whilst heaven did favour his felicities,
Then Clarion, the eldest sonne and haire
Of Muscaroll, and in his fathers sight
Of all alive did seeme the fairest wight.
With fruitfull hope his aged breast he fed 25
Of future good, which his yong toward yeares,
Full of brave courage and bold hardyhed
Above th'ensample of his equall peares,
Did largely promise, and to him fore-red,
(Whilst oft his heart did melt in tender teares,) 30
That he in time would sure prove such an one,
As should be worthie of his fathers throne.
The fresh yong flie, in whom the kindly fire
Of lustfull yongth* began to kindle fast,
Did much disdaine to subiect his desire 35
To loathsome sloth, or houres in ease to wast;
But ioy'd to range abroad in fresh attire
Through the wide compas of the ayrie coast,
And with unwearied wings each part t'inquire
Of the wide rule of his renownned sire. 40
[* _Yongth_, youth.]
For he so swift and nimble was of flight,
That from this lower tract he dar'd to stie*
Up to the clowdes, and thence with pineons light
To mount aloft unto the christall skie,
To vew the workmanship of heavens hight 45
Whence down descending he along would flie
Upon the streaming rivers, sport to finde,
And oft would dare to tempt the troublous winde.
[* _Stie_, mount.]
So on a summers day, when season milde
With gentle calme the world had quieted, 50
And high in heaven Hyperions fierie childe
Ascending did his beames abroad dispred,
Whiles all the heavens on lower creatures smilde,
Yong Clarion, with vauntfull lustiehead;
After his guize did cast abroad to fare, 55
And theretoo gan his furnitures prepare.
His breastplate first, that was of substance pure,
Before his noble heart he firmely bound,
That mought his life from yron death assure,
And ward his gentle corpes from cruell wound: 60
For it by arte was framed to endure
The bit* of balefull steele and bitter stownd**,
No lesse than that which Vulcane made to sheild
Achilles life from fate of Troyan field.
[* _Bit_, bite.]
[** _Stownd_, hour.]
And then about his shoulders broad he threw 65
An hairie hide of some wilde beast, whom hee
In salvage forrest by adventure slew,
And reft the spoyle his ornament to bee;
Which, spredding all his backe with dreadfull vew,
Made all that him so horrible did see 70
Thinke him Alcides with the lyons skin,
When the Naemean conquest he did win.
Upon his head, his glistering burganet*,
The which was wrought by wonderous device
And curiously engraven, he did set: 75
The mettall was of rare and passing price;
Not Bilbo** steele, nor brasse from Corinth fet,
Nor costly oricalche from strange Phoenice;
But such as could both Phoebus arrowes ward,
And th'hayling darts of heaven beating hard. 80
[* _Burganet_, helmet.]
[** _Bilbo_, Bilboa.]
Therein two deadly weapons fixt he bore,
Strongly outlaunced towards either side,
Like two sharpe speares, his enemies to gore:
Like as a warlike brigandine, applyde
To fight, layes forth her threatfull pikes afore, 85
The engines which in them sad death doo hyde,
So did this flie outstretch his fearefull hornes,
Yet so as him their terrour more adornes.
Lastly his shinie wings, as silver bright,
Painted with thousand colours passing farre 90
All painters skill, he did about him dight:
Not halfe so manie sundrie colours arre
In Iris bowe; ne heaven doth shine so bright,
Distinguished with manie a twinckling starre;
Nor Iunoes bird, in her ey-spotted traine, 95
So manie goodly colours doth containe.
Ne (may it be withouten perill spoken)
The Archer-god, the sonne of Cytheree,
That ioyes on wretched lovers to be wroken*,
And heaped spoyles of bleeding harts to see, 100
Beares in his wings so manie a changefull token.
Ah! my liege Lord, forgive it unto mee,
If ought against thine honour I have tolde;
Yet sure those wings were fairer manifolde.
[* _Wroken_, avenged.]
Full many a ladie faire, in court full oft 105
Beholding them, him secretly envide,
And wisht that two such fannes, so silken soft
And golden faire, her Love would her provide;
Or that, when them the gorgeous flie had doft,
Some one that would with grace be gratifide 110
From him would steale them privily away,
And bring to her so precious a pray.
Report is that Dame Venus on a day,
In spring when flowres doo clothe the fruitful ground,
Walking abroad with all her nymphes to play, 115
Bad her faire damzels flocking her arownd
To gather flowres, her forhead to array.
Emongst the rest a gentle nymph was found,
Hight Astery, excelling all the crewe
In curteous usage and unstained hewe. 120
Who, being nimbler ioynted than the rest,
And more industrious, gathered more store
Of the fields honour than the others best;
Which they in secret harts envying sore,
Tolde Venus, when her as the worthiest 125
She praisd', that Cupide (as they heard before)
Did lend her secret aide in gathering
Into her lap the children of the Spring,
Whereof the goddesse gathering iealous feare,--
Not yet unmindfull how not long agoe 130
Her sonne to Psyche secrete love did beare,
And long it close conceal'd, till mickle woe
Thereof arose, and manie a rufull teare,--
Reason with sudden rage did overgoe;
And, giving hastie credit to th'accuser, 135
Was led away of them that did abuse her.
Eftsoones that damzel by her heavenly might
She turn'd into a winged butterflie,
In the wide aire to make her wandring flight;
And all those flowres, with which so plenteouslie 140
Her lap she filled had, that bred her spight,
She placed in her wings, for memorie
Of her pretended crime, though crime none were:
Since which that flie them in her wings doth beare.
Thus the fresh Clarion, being readie dight, 145
Unto his iourney did himselfe addresse,
And with good speed began to take his flight:
Over the fields, in his franke* lustinesse;
And all the champion** he soared light;
And all the countrey wide he did possesse, 150
Feeding upon their pleasures bounteouslie,
That none gainsaid, nor none did him envie.
[* _Franke_, free.]
[** _Champion_, champaign.]
The woods, the rivers, and the medowes green.
With his aire-cutting wings he measured wide,
Ne did he leave the mountaines bare unseene, 155
Nor the ranke grassie fennes delights untride.
But none of these, how ever sweete they beene,
Mote please his fancie nor him cause t'abide:
His choicefull sense with everie change doth flit;
No common things may please a wavering wit. 160
To the gay gardins his unstaid desire
Him wholly caried, to refresh his sprights:
There lavish Nature, in her best attire,
Powres forth sweete odors and alluring sights;
And Arte, with her contending, doth aspire 165
T'excell the naturall with made delights:
And all that faire or pleasant may be found
In riotous excesse doth there abound.
There he arriving round about doth flie,
From bed to bed, from one to other border; 170
And takes survey, with curious busie eye,
Of every flowre and herbe there set in order;
Now this, now that, he tasteth tenderly,
Yet none of them he rudely doth disorder,
Ne with his feete their silken leaves deface, 175
But pastures on the pleasures of each place.
And evermore with most varietie,
And change of sweetnesse, (for all change is sweete,)
He casts his glutton sense to satisfie;
Now sucking of the sap of herbe most meete, 180
Or of the deaw which yet on them does lie,
Now in the same bathing his tender feete:
And then he pearcheth on some braunch thereby,
To weather him, and his moyst wings to dry.
And then againe he turneth to his play, 185
To spoyle the pleasures of that paradise;
The wholsome saulge*, and lavender still gray,
Ranke-smelling rue, and cummin good for eyes,
The roses raigning in the pride of May,
Sharpe isope, good for greene wounds remedies, 190
Faire marigoldes, and bees-alluring thime,
Sweete marioram, and daysies decking prime:
[* _Saulge_, sage.]
Coole violets, and orpine growing still,
Embathed balme, and chearfull galingale,
Fresh costmarie, and breathfull camomill, 195
Dull poppie, and drink-quickning setuale*,
Veyne-healing verven, and hed-purging dill,
Sound savorie, and bazil hartie-hale,
Fat colworts, and comforting perseline**,
Colde lettuce, and refreshing rosmarine. 200
[* _Setuale_, valerian.]
[** _Perseline_, purslain.]
And whatso else of vertue good or ill
Grewe in this gardin, fetcht from farre away,
Of everie one he takes and tastes at will,
And on their pleasures greedily doth pray.
Then when he hath both plaid, and fed his fill, 205
In the warme sunne he doth himselfe embay*,
And there him rests in riotous suffisaunce
Of all his gladfulnes and kingly ioyaunce.
[* _Embay_, bathe.]
What more felicitie can fall to creature
Than to enioy delight with libertie, 210
And to be lord of all the workes of Nature,
To raine in th'aire from earth to highest skie,
To feed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature,
To take whatever thing doth please the eie?
Who rests not pleased with such happines, 215
Well worthie he to taste of wretchednes.
But what on earth can long abide in state?
Or who can him assure of happie day?
Sith morning faire may bring fowle evening late,
And least mishap the most blisse alter may! 220
For thousand perills lie in close awaite
About us daylie, to worke our decay;
That none, except a God, or God him guide,
May them avoyde, or remedie provide.
And whatso heavens in their secret doome 225
Ordained have, how can fraile fleshly wight
Forecast, but it must needs to issue come?
The sea, the aire, the fire, the day, the night,
And th'armies of their creatures, all and some*,
Do serve to them, and with importune might 230
Warre against us, the vassals of their will.
Who then can save what they dispose to spill?
[* _All and some_, one and all.]
Not thou, O Clarion, though fairest thou
Of all thy kinde, unhappie happie flie,
Whose cruell fate is woven even now 235
Of loves owne hand, to worke thy miserie!
Ne may thee helpe the manie hartie vow,
Which thy olde sire with sacred pietie
Hath powred forth for thee, and th'altars sprent*
Nought may thee save from heavens avengement! 240
[* _Sprent_, sprinkled.]
It fortuned (as heavens had behight*)
That in this gardin where yong Clarion
Was wont to solace him, a wicked wight,
The foe of faire things, th'author of confusion,
The shame of Nature, the bondslave of spight, 245
Had lately built his hatefull mansion;
And, lurking closely, in awayte now lay,
How he might anie in his trap betray.
[* _Behight_, ordained.]
But when he spide the ioyous butterflie
In this faire plot dispacing* too and fro, 250
Fearles of foes and hidden ieopardie,
Lord! how he gan for to bestirre him tho,
And to his wicked worke each part applie!
His heart did earne** against his hated foe,
And bowels so with rankling poyson swelde, 255
That scarce the skin the strong contagion helde.
[* _Dispacing_, ranging about.]
[** _Earne_, yearn.]
The cause why he this flie so maliced*
Was (as in stories it is written found)
For that his mother which him bore and bred,
The most fine-fingred workwoman on ground, 260
Arachne, by his meanes was vanquished
Of Pallas, and in her owne skill confound**,
When she with her for excellence contended,
That wrought her shame, and sorrow never ended.
[* _Maliced_, bore ill-will to.]
[** _Confound_, confounded.]
For the Tritonian goddesse, having hard 265
Her blazed fame, which all the world had fil'd,
Came downe to prove the truth, and due reward
For her prais-worthie workmanship to yeild:
But the presumptuous damzel rashly dar'd
The goddesse selfe to chalenge to the field, 270
And to compare with her in curious skill
Of workes with loome, with needle, and with quill.
Minerva did the chalenge not refuse,
But deign'd with her the paragon* to make:
So to their worke they sit, and each doth chuse 275
What storie she will for her tapet** take.
Arachne figur'd how love did abuse
Europa like a bull, and on his backe
Her through the sea did beare; so lively@ seene,
That it true sea and true bull ye would weene. 280
[* _Paragon_, comparison.]
[** _Tapet_, tapestry.]
[@ _Lively_, life-like.]
Shee seem'd still backe unto the land to looke,
And her play-fellowes aide to call, and feare
The dashing of the waves, that up she tooke
Her daintie feete, and garments gathered neare:
But Lord! how she in everie member shooke, 285
When as the land she saw no more appeare,
But a wilde wildernes of waters deepe:
Then gan she greatly to lament and weepe.