Holiness; or, The legend of St. George: a tale from Spencer's [!] Faerie Queene

Preface

Charles Lamb's Tales of Shakspeare, and James Cowden Clarke's Tales of Chaucer, suggested writing out the Legends of the Faerie Queene. For Spencer needs translation ; his obsolete dialect throwing him out of the reach of children, whom it is so desirable to interest in the elder writers of English literature, and to the youngest of whom a Tale of Chivalry is always delightful.

But the peculiar charm of Spencer is, that a profound philosophy of moral life pervades it, which gradually dawns upon the reader —

And this again and again, at the successive stages of experience : for his stories are an exhaustless mine of thought.

IV. PREFACE.

To aid the developement of the allegory, a few notes are added by the editor, who is not the author of the tale. But it was not intended to explain the allegory fully ; this would require as many pages as the Tale itself.

The legends of Temperance, Chastity, Justice, &c. are in manuscript, — a source of delight to such young persons as have access to them. They will come forth at the call of the public.

December, 1835.

LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE.

Chapter I

The Patron of true Holinesse Foul Errour doth defeat ;

Hypocrisie him to entrappe Doth to his home entreate.

In days of yore, when the spirit of chivalry yet burned in every noble youth, there pricked forth one morning, over the dewy plain, a gentle knight ; bound by solemn oath to destroy a horrible dragon, that was ravaging the finest country of antiquity. 1

He was clad in complete armour. His silver shield which was not new, was marked with dints of former battles ; 2 but this knight had never worn arms before, and the noble animal on which he rode, seemed unused to the bit : yet he wore his arms gracefully, and his horse yielded to his manage, as to one skilled in the noble art of horsemanship. 3 On his breast he bore a bloody cross, in dear remembrance of our Lord Jesus Christ, whom he 1

M LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE,

adored alive and dead. And the same was graven on his shield ; an emblem of his assured belief and sovereign hope, that he should receive his aid in all peril and dismay.

Fairly did the young knight sit his horse, ready for knightly joust and fierce encounter. Right, faithful, true, he seemed, in word and deed ; but his air was solemn, for his purpose was high, involving much weal or woe to others. He seemed one whom an opposer should dread, but who could dread nothing himself. A lovely lady and fair, but veiled from head to foot, rode beside the knight, upon a lowly ass, which was whiter than snow. The lady seemed sad and heavy, as if she nourished some hidden care, and inly mourned. And over her snowy veil she had thrown a black stole or cloak, an emblem of her grieved spirit. But she looked, and was, as innocent and pure as the milk-white lamb which she led, tied to her saddle bow by a silken thread.

This lady was of royal lineage. Her ancestors were kings and queens, who had once reigned from east to west ; and had held the whole world in subjection, until a terrible dragon, having laid waste their kingdom with horrid uproar, had expelled the reigning king and queen.

To avenge the wrongs of her much injured parents, their fair daughter had besought the services of St. George, the noble knight of the Red Cross. 4

OR HOLINESS. J

She had found him at the court of Gloriana, queen of Faerie Land. 5 The knight was a devoted servant of Gloriana, and desired nothing on earth so much, as her grace and favour ; and Gloriana commanded him to do justice to the lady Una's cause, and prove his firmness, his honour, his virtue, and learn the power of his own right arm, in battle with that dragon, so terrible and stern.

This brave knight and lovely lady, had no attendants except a dwarf, 6 who carried the lady's baggage, and who seemed to lag behind as if weary with his burden.

During the greatest part of that day on which the knight and lady commenced their travels, the weather was fine ; not a cloud was seen ; it was one of those days when the heavens seem higher on account of the clearness and brilliancy of the atmosphere. But, suddenly, a cloud arose, the day was overcast, and a violent, terrific storm of wind and rain, drove every living thing to seek a shelter. The fair couple, who had rode thus far in thoughtful sadness, absorbed by the vast importance of events to come, were now obliged to think of their own safety, and seek some covert, from the pelting tempest. Not far distant they saw a grove of lofty trees, which seemed to promise security from wind and rain.

The trees were clothed with the rich drapery of summer, and spread their broad arms so wide, and were so intertwined, so densely covered with foliage, that they almost excluded the light of heaven. Entering this most glorious temple, built by Almighty Love, they found it crossed by wide footpaths, much worn, and leading deeper into the spacious interior. They passed onward, delighted with the sweet harmony of the thronging birds who had flown thither to shun the tempest, and they seemed to sing in joyous exultation at escaping the cruel sky.

Every tree of the forest was found in this wonderful grove. The pine, whose tall trunks furnish masts for our noblest ships ; proud cedars ; elms draped with vines of clustered grapes ; the polished poplar ; the kingly oak ; the funereal cypress ; the trembling aspen; the laurel whose varnished leaves form the conquerors' and poets' meed ; the weeping fir ; the willow sacred to forlorn and miserable lovers ; the pliant yew ; the birch ; the healing myrrh ; the useful ash ; the beech ; the fruitful olive ; the fair round plantain ; and the hollow maple : all grew and flourished in this one spot. 7

The knight, the lady, and their attendant, wandered with delight among the trees and flowers of this magnificent temple of nature, till the storm subsided. They then endeavoured to return to the highroad, but in vain. The more they wandered, the more inextricable appeared the labyrinth. When they believed themselves just about to reach the path desired, they would see that they were at the greatest distance from it ; paths seemed to multiply ; and their doubts about which they should take increased, till they absolutely feared that their own wits were wandering. At last, they resolved to go straight forward in the most beaten path till they reached some end of the labyrinth. Following this track, it finally brought them to a hollow cave, in the thickest part of the immense wood. The stout champion on seeing this, dismounted from his courser, and gave his spear, which was of no use to him then, to the dwarf.

The lady mildly recommended prudence to the valiant youth : * Be well aware,' said she, * lest thou provoke mischief, by being too rash. The danger, if any, is hidden ; thou dost not know its extent nor its nature ; the place is wild, unknown, and uninhabited by beings like ourselves. Such circumstances breed dreadful doubts. Fire often slumbers without smoke ; and there is often great peril, where we see no appearance of danger; therefore, sir knight, withhold all hostile strokes, till we have ascertained what dangers are hid in this cave.'

1 Ah ! lady,' said he, c it were shame for me now to hesitate, because the danger is hid. I have armed in the cause of virtue ; and she will give me light, by which to penetrate through darkness deep as that of Erebus.'

6 1 know more of the perils of this place £ replied 1*

O LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE,

the lady, ' than thou dost. It is indeed too late to wish thee to turn back ; that would now be foul disgrace ; but Wisdom often warns us to stay our step, even after the foot is within the gate, rather than be forced to a retreat. This wood is called the Wandering Wood ; and this is the cave of Error, a vile monster whom God and man hate, therefore I say, beware ! '

* Oh, fly ! fly ! ' cried the terrified dwarf, * this is no place for living men.'

But the youthful knight would not be checked. Full of fire, and greedy of hard earned fame, he hastened to the mouth of the den. It was deep and dark. He entered, and his glittering armour cast a fitful, uncertain light on a hideous object within ; but he saw the ugly monster plainly. She was half woman, half serpent ; loathsome, filthy, and her look was full of vile disdain. She lay stretched upon the earth, with her long huge tail spread over the whole den ; and yet, it was not unrolled, but wound up in knots, and every knot was pointed with a mortal sting. Around this frightful creature, were playing a thousand young ones, who were daily fed with her poisonous milk. They were variously shaped, but all were ill favoured. When the light, from the armour of the adventurous champion fell upon this odious group of young monsters, they instantly crept into the mouth of their dam, who rushed forthwith from her cave, hurling about her head her hideous tail, which was now stretched out in its whole enormous length. She looked fiercely round, but seeing the armed knight, she was terrified, and attempted to turn back into her cave, for she hated the light, and loved darkness, where she could neither be plainly seen, nor see others plainly.

When the valiant knight perceived that his enemy was about to fly from him, he sprang fiercely, like an enraged lion, upon his prey ; and boldly placed his sword across the mouth of the den. This act angered the monster, and she began to bray horribly ; and, turning about her speckled tail, armed with poisoned darts, she threatened to sting him. But he was not dismayed; and with his mighty arm, he struck her a violent blow, which glanced from her head to her shoulder. It made her dizzy for a moment, and enkindled within her tenfold rage ; and gathering herself up into a posture for leaping, she sprang high, and winding her enormous tail about her, fell with fierce power, upon the shield of our knight, whose body she instantaneously enfolded in her fearful instrument of mischief;

' God help the man, thus wrapped in Error's endless train I'

Then the lady, when she saw her noble champion under such sore constraint, cried out ; ' Now, now, sir knight, show thy valour, and let us know what thou art ! Add faith in God to thy natural power, and faint not. If thou dost not strangle the monster^ she will assuredly strangle thee. 5

When the knight heard this, perplexity, grief, anger, and disdain united to knit together all the forces of his mind and body; 8 and he freed one hand from the twisted monster. With this he grasped her throat, and with a power, that soon obliged her to uncoil the tail she had wound about him.

But, determined on his destruction, she threw out from her filthy stomach a flood of poison, with lumps of flesh, that smelled so vilely, mortal man could not endure it. The knight relaxed his grasp, and turned from her in utter abhorrence: looking down upon the nauseous matters that she continued to throw from her beastly mouth, what was his astonishment to see books, and papers, with loathsome frogs and toads without eyes, that crept away among the weedy grass, to hide themselves, as things abhorred. For so the monster defiled all the place round about the den ; not unlike the Nile, which, proudly swelling above the vales of Egypt, spreads a fatty slime over the plains, and fertilizes wherever he leaves his rich heaps of mud, in which breed creatures, male and female, ugly and monstrous — such as are found in no other country. The noble knight

OR H OLINE S S . V

was so annoyed by such sights and smells, thatfhe grew faint, and could not fight.

When the fiend perceived that his courage faltered, she poured forth all her spawn of infant serpents — deformed, monstrous, and black. They swarmed about the hero, crawled upon his legs, and encumbered him sorely; but they could not hurt him. They were as harmless to him as the musquitoes 9 which hover around some gentle shepherd, who stands on a high hill at even-tide, watching his sheep while they feed on the beautiful plains around and below him.

At length, the knight, harassed by such vile means of annoyance, and more fearful of shame and disgrace than of death, rushed furiously upon the monster — resolved to conquer or die. And with more than mortal force, in one blow, he struck the head from her filthy body, and a stream of coal-black blood gushed from the headless corpse.

The brood of young serpents, seeing their mother fall, and hearing her groans, gathered about her, and tried to find her mouth, their usual entrance to her body in times of danger or alarm. This was now closed for ever to them; therefore they flocked around her bleeding body, and sucked up their mother's blood, making her death the means of their life. This detestable sight shocked the valiant knight. He saw with horror these imps, accursed of heaven, devouring their mother; but while he gazed upon them, they began to swell in consequence of eating to excess. Yet they would not stop from the gluttonous repast, till they burst, and their bowels gushed forth upon the ground. c O ! worthy end of such as you,' exclaimed the knight, — 'you, who have drunk the life-blood of her that nursed you ! '

Thus ended the first adventure of our chivalrous youth ; and the lady, who from a distance had witnessed his heroic firmness, now approached to congratulate him on his victory. l Fair knight,' said she, 'thou wert born under a happy star, thy foe lies dead before thee. Thou hast proved thyself worthy of thine armour, in which thou hast this day won great glory. Thy strength has been tried upon a powerful enemy, and thou hast been successful. Mayst thou have many such adventures, and in all have like success.'

The young knight then remounted his steed, and with the lady, went back from- the den, keeping the beaten path, and never turning either to the right or left. Patiently pursuing this straight course, it brought them at last into the high road, from which the tempest had driven them. They travelled a long way before any new adventure occurred; but the knight was patient and persevering ; God was his friend, and with his favor and approbation, he doubted not that success and honor would reward his honorable efforts.

After riding many miles, they met upon the road an aged man. He was dressed in a long black garment. His feet were bare, his beard grey ; and he had books hanging to the leathern belt which confined his cassock. He appeared sage and sober ; his eyes were bent upon the ground ; and he seemed engaged in prayer ; and by the frequent smiting of his breast, it seemed to be the prayer of a penitent.

The knight saluted the venerable man with a lowly bend, which the old man returned with all the courtesy belonging to those chivalrous times. They then fell into conversation ; the young traveller inquiring of the old man if he knew of any strange adventures abroad.

He replied, ' my dear son, alas ! how should a silly old man, secluded in a hidden cell from all intercourse with the world, and whose whole business, the long, long day, is telling his beads as penance for his sins, know any thing about adventures, of wars, and worldly troubles ? It does not become a holy Father to meddle with such affairs as these. But if you desire to hear of dangers that surround us, of home bred evils, I can tell you more than you may like to listen to ; I can tell you tidings of a strange man, that wastes all this country far and near.'

'It is of such, 5 replied the knight, 'that I inquire, and wish to hear ; and if you will guide me to the place where this destructive being harbours, I will give you a rich reward. It is foul disgrace to all knighthood, that such a creature has lived so long.'

'It is very far from here,' said the old man, 1 and in a vast wilderness ; and no living man can ever pass that dwelling place of his without experiencing great distress.'

' It draws towards night,' said the lady to her companion, ' and thou art already over- wearied by thy late contest with the monster. No man is strong as not to require rest to renew his power The sun, that measures heaven during the day, sinks to rest with his steeds in the ocean waves at night. Like the sun, then, take thou a timely rest and begin a new day with new work. It is said that an untroubled night gives the best counsel.'

' You are right well advised, sir knight,' said the aged man, ' you will win by taking wise advice. The day is too far spent for travel, and if it suit your wishes, fair lady, and yours, sir, let my cell be your inn to night.'

The young travellers gladly accepted the old man's hospitality. His hermitage was lowly, and situated in a deep dale on the verge of a magnificent forest. It was far from the resort of people ; even from all, who travelled the high way. Near it was a holy chapel, in which the hermit offered his daily devotions ; and a beautiful stream of chrystal water flowed round it. The stream issued from a sacred fountain, which welled up continually near a cleft rock, within sight of the consecrated spot. The hermitage was so small that the little party completely filled it. They neither received nor expected food. Rest was all the feast they wished for. Noble minds are always content in the circumstances in which Providence places them. The old man entertained his guests with pleasing words, of which he had a liberal store. His tongue was smooth as glass. He told of saints and popes ; said an Ave Maria between every tale he recited ; and kept his hearers most agreeably engaged till Morpheus weighed down their eye-lids with his sweet slumber-inspiring dew.

When their host saw the wearied travellers obey a power they could not resist, with great show of hospitality, he provided lodging for each of the wearied travellers. But as soon as he knew they were sound asleep, the old magician went to his study, and there, among his magic books, and with arts of various kinds, he sought for the mighty charm, by which he troubled people who were asleep. He chose out a few horrible words, with which he framed some verses ; and, joining to these, other terrible spells, he called on the grisly wife of 2

Pluto ; cursed heaven ; and spake reproachfully of the God he had just pretended to adore. He was a bold bad man, who dared to call upon the name of one, who is styled the prince of darkness, the great Gorgon ; from whom it is said that even the river Styx flees in terror, and at whose name Cocytus trembles to its lowest depth.

He next called to his assistance legions of sprites, and they fluttered about the head of this wicked man like flies, and inquired what services he demanded of them ; — whether to aid his friends, or frighten his enemies ? Having selected two, who were particularly cunning; who could tell lies, that seemed like truth ; to one of these he gave a message ; the other he retained with himself, to do some other work of darkness. The messenger sped through the air, and through the world of waters, with the rapidity of light ; seeking the house of Morpheus, that god, who, it is said, dwells in the very bowels of the earth, where day never dawned, where Cynthia steeps his head in silver dew, and Tethys laves his bed with water, and Night spreads over him her dark mantle.

The sprite found the doors of Morpheus' dwelling locked. One door was framed of burnished ivory, the other was overlaid with silver. Two dogs guarded these doors, lest Care should enter in, who is the enemy of sleep, and often troubles him. But the sprite passed through the doors, and along by the dogs, unharmed, and placed himself by the drowsy Morpheus, who was drowned so deep in slumber that he took care of nothing. To lull himself to sleep, he had caused a gentle stream to flow down from a high rock near his house, and a soft rain to drizzle continually upon the roof. To these lulling sounds he also united that sweet murmuring wind, which, like the hum of bees, induces slumber. He allowed no noises, like those which annoy the sleeper in towns and cities, to be heard in all his domain, but, wrapt in eternal silence, he lay quiet, like one dead, and safe from all living enemies.

The sprite, whom the old man sent, spoke repeatedly to Morpheus before he could wake him. At last he rudely pushed and thrust him, till he produced pain. This roused him a little and he stretched himself and yawned. Then the sprite shook him hard, till he forced him to speak ; yet he spoke like one in a dream, mumbling softly to himself, as if he was troubled with strange sights and queer fancies. At last the sprite became impatient, and threatened the drowsy god with punishment from the dreaded Hecate. At this threat Morpheus roused himself, and lifting up his lumpish head, half angrily blamed the sprite ; asking him for what he came ?

1 1 came hither,' he replied, ' in obedience to Archimago, him, who can tame the most stubborn sprites, and enforce their services. He bids you send to him a false dream, fit to delude sleepers.' Morpheus obeyed instantly; for he dreaded the power of that wicked magician, Archimago. He called, from the deep recesses of his dark prisonhouse, a dream, strange and diverse, and delivering it to the sprite, sunk down again to sleep, devoid of all care, and his senses completely benumbed. The sprite flew directly through the ivory door, cheerful as a lark, and flew homeward to his lord, bearing upon his little wings the fatal dream.

Archimago, in the mean time, by his hellish arts and charms had formed out of the other sprite a beautiful lady. He took liquid air to form her loveliest features, and they were so lively and so like real life, that they would have deceived the wisest man, and even the old magician himself fell in love with his own workmanship, so goodly was it, and so natural. When he had finished making the lady, he wrapt her in a white veil, and threw over it a black hood or shorter veil, and she looked precisely like the beautiful Una, the companion and lady-love of the knight of the Red Cross. As soon as the sprite came back, who had been sent to Morpheus for the dream, — Archimago commanded him to fly to the couch of the knight, who, innocent, and free from evil thoughts, was sleeping soundly in the bed which Archimago had prepared for him ; and

OR HOIINESS. 17

he bade him abuse his fancy with false visions, which were to be so gross and wicked, that the old man told them privately to the sprite.

Archimago next summoned the false lady that he had made, and whose mind he had filled with guile ; and he taught her how to imitate the true and beautiful Una, whom she exactly resembled outwardly. Being thus instructed, the creatures of magic went together to the recess where the knight slept. The sprite alighted on his head, and filled his brain with idle and wicked dreams, suggesting thoughts that never before entered his chaste and virtuous mind. He dreamed that his beloved Una had become enslaved to pleasure ; that she had lost her purity, and wished to lead him into crime ; and that Venus, the sovereign queen of beauty, was leading the fair but corrupted woman to his chamber. Now as he had always thought of Una as a pure and holy being, the daughter of a king, and high, even above his hopes, such a dream shocked him, and disturbed his slumbers. Presently he heard music, and imagined that he heard the Graces singing the nuptial song, called in his time Hymen io hymen ; and that he saw them dancing, and that Flora crowned Una with a fresh garland of ivy. He started from his sleep, greatly agitated. He feared that some hidden foe was trying to work his destruction. He always feared to do wrong, of nothing else was this noble youth afraid ; 2 # therefore he kept strict guard even over his sleeping thoughts. Who then can realize his horror, when he rose from his distressing dream, to see his lady, his modest and lovely Una, standing at his bedside !

It was the false lady made by the wicked Archimago ; but of this, the knight knew nothing ; and he was utterly dismayed. Her snowy veil, partly shrouded in black, and her half concealed modest look, made him certain that it was indeed Una who stood before him; and enraged at her improper boldness in thus intruding upon him, he was about to kill her on the spot, but wisely paused lest his senses had deceived him. The false creature then began to wring her hands and weep, saying, ' Ah, sir, my liege lord, my only love ! cruel fate, and the wicked god of love have forced me to approach you unbidden ; upon you I depend for life or death ; for your dear sake I left my father's kingdom.' Here she burst into tears as if overcome by sensibility, but soon went on, < I am young and weak, and fly to you for succour, let me not die.'

'Why dame,' he replied, 'What are you dismayed about ? What frightens you ? You, who used to comfort me in danger, and encourage me to bravery and perseverance.'

She replied, c Love for you deprives me of sleep ; and while you are sunk in profound repose, I spend the long weary night in anguish.'

These words made the knight suspect her truth ; her love was too fawning, and he despised, yet was unwilling to disgrace her. Answering her therefore mildly, he said, ' Dear dame, I am sorry that for my sake such unknown griefs await you, I have ever deemed your love as dear as my life, and I hold myself bound to you. So do not let any vain fears distress you. There is no cause. Depart, therefore, to your rest.' 10

She obeyed, for the false creature found that the good knight was proof against her arts. However, he was much disturbed ; for, as he believed it was his Una, with whom he had been talking, the idea took possession of his brain, that she was not so good as he once thought her ; and, for a long time, he could not sleep. At last he was so wearied that he sunk again to rest, and the mischievous sprite once more settled on his head, and made him dream about ladies' bowers, and many things, that were repugnant to his noble and correct principles.

CHAPTER IT.

The guileful great Enchanter parts The Red Cross Knight from Truth ;

Into whose stead fair Falsehood steps And works him fearful ruth.

It was nearly morning. The steadfast star, to the northern world a guide in all their wanderings over the mighty deep, shone faintly, as the fiery car of Phoebus began to climb over the eastern hill ; and the cheerful note of chanticleer had already given his warning to sleeping mortals, that day was approaching, when those wicked messengers from hell, the false dream, and the sprite, who had assumed the form of the lovely Una, came to their cruel master, and told him that they had entirely failed of success, that all their pains to deceive had been bootless.

Archimago was enraged when he found that his mighty skill had been of no use ; he raved at them, and threatened them with infernal pains, and the wrath of Proserpine ; but he soon perceived that his anger would be of no avail. The best way would be to search his books of art, and, by their aid, to contrive some new means of deceiving the young knight and his fair companion. So he took that miscreated woman, whom he had made with the imp and air, and placed her in a retired apartment ; and then he took the sprite which he had made to resemble the false dream, and, enveloping him in a cloud of air, gave to him the appearance of a young esquire or gentleman, of gay manners, and light and fashionable habits. This youth he led to the apartment of the false lady, so like to Una outwardly, that none but the most careful observer could trace one shade of difference. The youth was directed to appear very fond of the lady, and she was to treat him with all the tenderness she could bestow upon a husband. This done, the vile magician flew with apparent agony and terror to the room of the young knight, who, after many troubled dreams, had just sunk into a quiet slumber; and he called aloud, 6 Rise, rise, unhappy swain ! Lie not here, waxing old in sleep, while your false lady gives all her Jove and sweet attentions to another. Rise, and with true knightly honour revenge your wrong ! '