The Faery queen, first book

Foreword

<4nnHE FAERY QUEEN," by Edmund X Spenser, who was born in London in 1552, is one of the most splendid long poems in the English language. It is also a wonderfully interesting story-book, containing all sorts of adventures. But not many children are likely to read this long poem in its original form. I have therefore taken the first story and told it in prose, that young readers may have the tale in such shape as may please them. It would have gratified me to tell the whole set of tales in this way, but this course would have made a larger book than you would care for, perhaps.

The author of this poem intended that it should be understood as an allegory, that is, a story with a double meaning. His knights and ladies, and their adventures, are meant to be images of human life. But as young people are usually interested more in a story than in its meaning, vje have not given an explanation of the allegory, believing that the story in itself is sufficiently pleasing, and that readers can find out something of the meaning without help.

The book introduces us to the world of the fairies. We meet here the great queen Gloriana, who reigned over Fairyland ; we meet here St. George and the Dragon. All our lives long we shall find in our reading references to the famous scenes and people told of in this book. So we hope you may like the tale.

C. D. W,

V

Chapter I

GLORIANA, THE FAIRY QUEEN. — HER YEARLY FEAST.— THE AWKWARD YOUTH AND HIS REQUEST. — THE LADY WHOSE PARENTS WERE SHUT UP BY A DRAGON.

CHAPTER I

NCE upon a time the great Gloriana ruled as the Fairy Queen, and not only were the little fairies subject to her commands but many strong and great knights also obeyed her. And these were sent forth by her endowed with magical powers, so that they were able to do what no other knights could perform.

It was the custom of this Queen to hold a festival every year for twelve days, during which the. time was spent in feasting and merrymaking, and at such seasons all the lords and ladies of her kingdom gathered together at her court. At a certain time the great Gloriana was keeping this her yearly feast, when in the beginning of the festival there cam.e in a tall but clownish young man. He at once presented [3]

himself before the Queen of Fairies, and desired a favor at her hands. It was the custom then that during the feast she could not refuse a request that was in itself fair and right.

And what do you think this youth asked for himself? Was it money or power? No, it was such a thing as in those days brave men considered to be the greatest privilege they could obtain. He requested that he might have the chance to perform a brave deed. He wished that he might be chosen for the accomplishment of the first adventure that might happen during that feast. This youth seemed to the Queen to be but a raw and awkward young man, and by no means the most promising of the men present to whom to give such an opportunity, but she could not refuse. Therefore she granted his desire.

This youth was much gratified by her reply, and then rested himself upon the floor, since he on account of his rude appearance did not seem to be suited for any better place.

Soon afterward, there entered a fair

Lady, dressed in black garments, riding

upon a white ass. Behind her came a

Dwarf leading a warlike steed, that bore

THE FAERY QUEEN the arms of a knight, and his spear was in the Dwarf's hands. This Lady, falling before the Queen of Fairies, complained that her father and mother, who were an ancient king and queen, had been shut up for many years in their brazen castle, by a huge Dragon that lay before their gates and would allow no one to enter in nor to come out of that palace. She said that many knights had come from various parts of the world to slay the Dragon, but they had all failed and lost their lives. They had been attracted thither by the desire to do a great deed, and also by the reward which her father offered, for he had proclaimed throughout the world that he would make the man who would kill the monster heir to his kingdom, and he would give him the hand of his daughter, Una, who was this Lady herself.

She said that since so many men had failed in this attempt she had now come to the Queen of the Fairies, having learned that her knights were much abler to perform wonderful deeds than were any other men. She therefore asked Gloriana to appoint one of her knights to take upon himself the adventure of setting her parents free by slaying the Dragon.

The awkward youth, who had received [5]

THE FAERY QUEEN Gloriana's promise that he should have the privilege of the first adventure that offered, heard this conversation, and at once started up, desiring that he might undertake this deed. Whereat the Queen wondered much and the Lady hesitated, seeing his youth and awkwardness; but he earnestly urged his request. In the end, the Lady told him that unless the armor which her Dwarf had borne thither, upon the riderless steed, would perfectly fit him, he could not succeed in the enterprise.

When the armor was tried upon the youth, it was found to be as if it had been made for. him. And when his form was covered with that noble mail he seemed to be the goodliest man in all that company, and as the Lady looked upon him thus changed she liked him well, and her heart went out to him. Then this youth, whose name was George, took the oath of knighthood, and mounting upon that strange courser, he went forth with the Lady Una upon that adventure. But before he went away George promised the Queen that if he should succeed in killing the Dragon, he would return to her court and enter for six years as a knight into her wars with the heathens.

i

I

I

Chapter II

THE REDCROSS KNIGHT AND UNA ON THEIR JOURNEY.— THEY ENTER THE WAN- DERING WOOD. — ERROR^S DEN. — GEORGE SLAYS A DREADFUL BEAST. — THEY LODGE AT NIGHT WITH AN OLD W^AN WHO PROVES TO BE A MAGICIAN. -^^VhE MAGI- CIAN AI^mMAGa DECEIVES THE KNIGHT BY A DREAM. — GEORGE BELIEVES UNA TO BE A WICKED WOMAN.

CHAPTER II

fND now we see this gentle Knight George, clad in mighty arms and carrying a silver shield, riding across a plain. On his buckler were old dents of hard blows, the marks of many a bloody fight, though we know that this Knight had never carried arms before. His armor, however, had been worn by other warriors, and it had been proved to be the best. His angry steed champed its foaming bit, as disdaining to yield to the curb. Very fair did this Knight seem, and he sat his horse firmly, as one suited for knightly jousts and fierce encounters.

On his breast he wore a bloody cross, as

a sign of his remembrance of his dying

Lord, for whose sweet sake he wore that

glorious badge. A cross was also scored

[9] ,.

■I upon his shield, for he had his chief hope in the help of Christ; and for this reason he came to be called George, the Redcross Knight. As he rode his countenance seemed too sad, yet it was not so through fear, for he dreaded nothing, but was rather feared by others.

During his journey thus far, he had come to admire and love greatly the Lady Una, and he desired above all things to win honor and have her favor. His heart was also filled with yearning to prove his power in brave battle upon his foe, that horrible and stern Dragon that imprisoned the parents of his Lady.

The lovely Lady Una rode fairly beside him, upon a lowly ass that was whiter than snow, and yet not so white as she; but she hid her beauty under a veil that was folded low, and over all she had thrown a black cloak. She looked sad as one that inwardly mourned, and she sat heavily upon her slow palfrey. She seemed to have in her heart some hidden care. And by her side she led with a line a milk-white lamb, and she was as pure and innocent in her life as that same lamb.

Behind her, far away, lagged her Dwarf, who seemed lazy, being always last, and being wearied with bearing her bag of goods at his back.

As they rode on, the day was suddenly overcast with clouds, and an angry, hideous storm of rain was poured down fast upon the earth, so that every one was constrained to hurry to cover; and this fair couple also were fain to shelter themselves.

Driven to seek some hiding place near at hand from the storm, they spied a shady grove not far away that promised them help to withstand the tempest. There lofty trees, clad with leaves, the pride of summer, spread so broad that they hid heaven's light and could not be pierced by the power of any star. Within were paths and wide alleys with worn footpaths that led far inward. These promised a fair haven ; so they entered.

With pleasure they went forward, rejoicing to hear the birds' sweet harmony, which, there protected from the dread tempest, seemed in their song to scorn the cruel sky. Much they praised the straight high trees, the soaring pine, the proud, tall cedar, the vine-prop elm, the green poplar, the oak that is king of the forests, the aspen good for staves, the funeral cypress, the laurel, the reward of conquerors and sage [II]

poets, the weeping fir, the willow worn by forlorn lovers, the yew, the birch, the sallow, the myrrh, the beech, the ash, the olive, the plane tree, the holme and the maple.

Led with delight, they beguiled their ride with listening to the birds and looking upon the trees, until the blustering storm was blown over. When wishing to return to the open again, they could not find the path, but wandered back and forth in unknown ways. When they thought themselves nearest, they were farthest from the right way, so ^vj that they began to doubt if they had not -^ lost their wits. They saw so many paths, with so many turnings, that they were in doubt which one to take.

At last they resolved to ride forward until they could find some way in or out, and they took the path that seemed most beaten and most likely to lead out of the labyrinth. When they had hunted over all this, it at length brought them to a hollow cave amid the thickest woods. The stout Knight at once dismounted from his brave courser, and gave his spear to the Dwarf.

Then the mild Lady said, ** Beware lest you stir up sudden mischief. There may be hidden danger, for this place is unknown and wild. Often there is fire without smoke, and peril without signs of it. Therefore, Sir Knight, wait till you have made further trial."

"Ah, Lady," said he, "it would be shameful to cease to go forward because of hidden shadows. Virtue gives herself light to wade through darkness."

"Yes, but," said she, "I know the peril of this place better than do you. Though you think it is now too late to return back without disgrace to you as a Knight, yet wisdom warns you, while you are at the entrance to the cave, to stay your steps before you are forced to retreat, for this is the Wandering Wood, and this is Error's Den, a vile monster who is hated by God and man. Therefore, I say, beware,"

"Fly, fly," said the timid Dwarf, "this is no place for living men."

But the youthful Knight was so full of fire and courage that he could not be stopped, but went forth into the dark hole and looked in. His glistening armor made a little gloomy light, by which he saw plainly the ugly monster, that was half like a serpent and the other half had a woman's shape, and all was most loathsome, filthy, and foul. And as she lay upon the ground, her huge, long tail spread over all her den, [13]

a yet was wound up in knots and many folds, and pointed with a deadly sting.

The monster started up frightened, and rushed forth, hurling her hideous tail about her cursed head. Its folds were now stretched forth at length without twistings. She looked about, and seeing a man armed in iron mail sought to turn back again, for she hated light as a deadly thing.

Which when the valiant knight saw, he leaped as fiercely as a lion upon his fleeing foe, and with his sharp sword he boldly kept her from turning back, and forced her to stay. Enraged at this, she began to roar loudly, and fiercely turning, thrust forward her speckled tail, threatening her angry sting to dismay him. But he, nothing terrified, raised up his mighty hand, and the stroke of his sword glanced from her head to her shoulder.

Her senses were dazed with that blow, yet her rage kindled, and she gathered herself up and all at once raised her beastly body high above the ground. Then she leaped fierce upon his shield, and suddenly wound her huge length around his body, so that he tried in vain to stir hand or foot. His Lady, sad at seeing his sore plight, cried, "Now, now. Sir Knight, show what [14]

you are. Add faith to your force, and be not faint. Strangle her, or she surely will strangle you." -

When he heard this, he was in great perplexity, and was filled with grief and disdain. Then striving with all his force he got one hand free, and with this he gripped her throat with such a strength that soon he compelled her to loose her wicked bands. Then she cast forth from her foul mouth a horrible poison, which smelled so vilely that it forced him to slacken his hold and to turn away from her. The Knight was well nigh choked by the deadly smell, so that he could not fight for a moment.

The Knight at last feeling more the shame than the peril of his plight, came furiously upon his foe, resolved to win suddenly or quickly to lose before he would give up the battle. He then struck at her with more than human force, so that he hewed her hateful head from her body. Then a stream of coal-black blood gushed from her corpse.

His Lady seeing from afar all that had happened, approached in haste to praise his victory, and said, "Fair Knight, born under a happy star, who now see your vanquished foe lie before you, you are well worthy of [15]

that armor wherein you have won great glory this day and proved your strength on a strong enemy in your first adventure. Many such adventures I pray for you, and ever wish that they may succeed like this one."

Then he mounted upon his steed again and sought to go thence with his Lady. He kept that path which was most beaten, nor would go aside to any byway, and by following this path to the end it at last brought them out of the wood. So forward on his way, with God as his friend, he passed forth and sought new adventures. But he travelled a long way before anything more happened to him.

At length they chanced to meet upon the way an aged man, who was clad in long black clothes, with bare feet, and with beard hoary gray. He had his book hanging by his belt, and seemed sober and sad as a sage. His eyes were bent low upon the ground, and he seemed to be a simple man, without any malice. As he went he prayed all the way, and often knocked upon his breast as one that repented of his sins.

He greeted the Knight fairly , bowing

low, and he as a courteous man returned

the salute, and afterward asked him if he knew of any strange adventures that had been taking^ place. **Ah, my dear," said he, ** how should a silly old man, who lives in a hidden cell, counting his beads all day for his sins, know tidings of wars and worldly troubles? It does not fit a holy father to meddle with such things. But if you desire to hear of danger near at home, I can tell you tidings of a strange man that wastes this country far and near.'

"Of such/' said the Knight, "I chiefly inquire, and shall reward you well to show the place in which that wicked wight spends his days. For to all knighthood it is a foul disgrace that such a cursed creature lives so long."

**His dwelling," said he, "is far hence, in a vast wilderness, where no living man may ever pass without great sorrows."

"Now," said the Lady, "it draws toward night, and well I know that you are wearied by your great toil. For who is so strong but lacking rest he will also lack strength? Then with the Sun take your timely rest, and with the new day begin at once new work. An untroubled night, they say gives best counsel."

"Right well, Sir Knight, you are advised," said then that aged man. "Now [17]

the day is spent. Therefore with me you may take up your lodging for this night.'*

The Knight was well content, so they went with that godly father to his home. It was a little lowly hermitage, down in a dale, close to the side of a forest, far from the road where people passed to and fro in travel. Near it there was built a holy chapel, wherein the hermit was used to say his holy prayers, each morning and evening. There a crystal stream gently played, which welled forth from a sacred fountain.

When they had arrived, they filled the little house, it was so small, nor did they look for fine entertainment where it could not be given. Rest was their feast, and doing as they wished. The noblest mind has the best contentment. They passed the evening with pleasant discourse; for that old man had a store of pleasing words, and could file his tongue as smooth as glass. He told of Saints and Popes, and strewed his prayers through his talk.

The drooping night crept fast upon them. Their eyelids grew heavy, bidding them to sleep. The old man then led them to their couches, and when he saw them lost in sleep he went to his study. There amid books of magic and various arts, he sought [i8]

THE FAERY QUEEN out mighty charms to trouble sleepy minds. By his horrible spells he called up hundreds of Sprites, which fluttered about his head like little flies waiting to do whatever service he bade them, to assist his friends or slay his enemies. Of these he chose out a pair, the falsest ones and fittest to forge lies that seemed true. To one of these he gave a message to bear for him, and the other stayed by his side to do other work. The one sped through the air, and through the ocean, and hastily repaired to the house of Morpheus, the god of sleep. His dwelling is in the bowels of the earth, where the dawning day never peeps. There he found the double gates locked fast; the one was framed of burnished ivory, and the other all covered with silver. Before them lay wakeful dogs watching to banish Care, which is wont to trouble gentle sleep. The Sprite passed quietly by these, and came to Morpheus, whom he found drowned in drowsiness; for he takes no care for anything. To lull Morpheus in his soft slumber, there is there a trickling stream that tumbles down from a high rock. Rain always drizzles on the roof, mixed with a murmuring wind, much like the sound of bees. No other noise, nor the troublous [19]

cries of people might there be heard. There careless Quiet lies wrapped in eternal silence, far from foes.

This Messenger, approaching, spoke to him, but his words were wasted ; he slept so sound that nothing could awaken him. Then he struck him rudely, causing him pain, whereat he began to stretch himself. He again shook him so hard that he forced him to speak, and he mumbled softly as one in a dream. The Sprite then began more boldly to awaken him, and threatened him with the dreadful name of Hecate. At this he began to quake, and lifting up his lumpish head half angrily asked him for what he came. ^ . ^.,

"I was sent here/' said the Sprite, by Archimago, he that can tame stubborn Sprites. He bids you to send him a false dream that can deceive sleepers.''

This command Morpheus obeyed, and calling forth at once a Dream out of his dark prison, delivered it to him, and then again laid down his heavy head, whose senses were at once benumbed.

The Sprite, returning by the ivory door, remounted to the air cheerful as a lark, and bore the Dream upon his little wmgs m haste to his master.

E^ i

THE FAERY QUEEN VS) /

This old man, who was really the great ^]M magician Archimago, meanwhile had made t^U a Lady of the other Sprite, and framed her l^^W of air, so beautiful and so like Una that ^!y^ Archimago himself was almost deceived at W)/\ the sight. He clad her all in white and cast 5S:^r over her a black garment like that of Una. ]/ ^ Then he sent that idle Dream to the Knight ff^^ where he slept soundly, void of evil thought, uj^^ And when he dreamed awhile he awoke and ^ & found this Sprite in his room. And then L^V/- that evil Sprite told him that Una, who he ^<j)H thought was speaking to him, was a wicked [> ^^ \ woman, and unworthy of his devotion and t^-^^h his service. fC*^W

He was much dismayed at this strange w(L news, but he could not doubt since it ^"^^ seemed to be Una herself who spoke. And KWA7 when she was gone, he lay a long time t^^/^^^ musing and much grieved that this gentle fy^fsip dame was an evil person, for whose de- y''^^^^ fence he was to shed his blood. At last, ^^ dull with weariness from his fight, he fell asleep, but troublous dreams still tossed his brain.

CHAPTER IIL

THE REDCROSS KNIGHT, BELIEVING UNA TO BE WICKED, FORSAKES HER. — UNA GOES IN SEARCH OF HER KNIGHT. — ARCHI- MAGO DISGUISES HIMSELF AS THE RED- CROSS KNIGHT. — THE REAL ST. GEORGE FIGHTS WITH THE SARACEN SANSFOY.— A FALSE WITCH |)UESSA) DECEIVES ST. GEORGE.— THE MAN AND WOMAN WHO WERE CHANGED INTO TREES.

AW

Chapter III

HEN the cheerful Chanticleer with his shrill note had warned them once that the Sun's fiery car was hastily climbing the eastern hill, the Knight was awakened from troubled sleep.

He had great torment in his bed and bitter anguish at the thought of what he believed the Lady Una 4iad said to him. He could no longer rest; life seemed irksome. And when the light dawned, up he rose and hastily clad himself. Then he ordered the Dwarf to bring his steed, and away they both fled.

When the fair rosy morning had spread her robe through the dewy air and the high hills were shining with the light, the royal virgin, Una, shook off drowsiness, and. rising from her bower, looked for her Knight, but he had fled far away. Then she [25]

searched for her Dwarf, but he, too, was gone. And then she began to wail and weep at her peril. Mounting her palfrey, she rode after him, with as much speed as her slow beast could make. But it was all in vain, for the Knight's light-footed steed had borne him so far, spurred by this angry and disdainful man, that it was but fruitless for her to follow.

Yet she would never rest her weary limbs, but searched every hill and dale, wood and plain, grieving in her gentle breast that he whom she so loved had left her so ungently.

But the subtle Archimago, when he saw his guests thus separated and Una wandering in forests and woods, praised his own fiendish art, that had such power over true meaning hearts. Yet he did not rest, but devised other means to cause Una further pain. For he hated her as a hissing snake and took most pleasure in her many troubles.

He then planned how to disguise himself, for by his mighty art he could take many forms and shapes, sometimes like a fowl, sometimes like a fish, now like a fox, now like a dragon, so that he would often quake with fear of himself. Who can tell the power of Magic?

But it now seemed to him best to put on the appearance of that good Knight who had been his guest. At once he clad himself with mighty arms, and a silver shield. Upon his cowardly breast he had a bloody cross. He seemed like a fair knight, and of good address. When he sat upon his free courser, you would have thought it was St. George himself.

But he whose semblance he bore, the true St. George, had wandered far away, still flying from his thoughts and fears. At last, however, the real St. George chanced to meet upon the way a faithl ess Sar acen, all armed, upon whose gfeaF" shield was written with gay letters, Sansfoy, which means, without faith. He was large in limbs and joints, and cared not for God nor man. This Saracen had as a fair companion of his way a goodly Lady, clad in scarlet embroidered with gold and pearls. On her head she wore a Persian mitre decorated with jewels, which her lovers had given her. Her palfrey was covered with tinsel trappings and her bridle rang with golden bells. She entertained this Saracen with mirth and dalliance on the way.

But when she saw St. George advance his spear, she left off her mirth and bade [27]

her knight prepare for battle, as a foe was coming. The Saracen, stirred with hope to win his Lady's heart, spurred forth fast. Down his courser's side the red blood trickled and stained the ground as he rode. The Knight of the Redcross, when he spied him spurring so hotly, couched his spear and rode toward him. Soon they both met furiously so that their steeds staggered and stood amazed. Also the knights themselves were stunned with the strokes of their own hands, and recoiled from each other. There they stood unmoved as rocks, staring fiercely, holding idly their broken spears. The Saracen then snatched his sword and fiercely flew upon his enemy, who warded it well and gave him blow for blow. Each envies the other's equal power, and they seek to pierce through their iron sides. They yield no foot. The flashing

^'SJ fire flies, as from a forge. Streams of purple

/-Or blood color the green fields.

"A curse on that Cross," then cried the Saracen, "that keeps your body safe. I know you would have been dead long ago, had not that Cross been a charm. But yet I warn you to hide your head." Thereupon he smote upon his crest with such force that he hewed a large piece out of his hel- [28]

met. St. George, wondrously wroth, soon revived the sleeping spark of his strength, and, aiming at the haughty helmet of the Saracen, struck so furiously that his sv^ord cut through the steel and clove his head. He tumbled down, kissing his mother earth with bloody mouth. His spirit strove with the frail flesh, and at last flitted away.

The Lady in scarlet^ when she saw her champion fall like the old ruins of a broken tower, stayed not to weep for him but fled away with all her might. The Knight scoured hastily after her, bidding the Dwarf bring away the Saracen's shield, as a sign of his victory, and soon he overtook her, bidding her to stop, as there was no present cause for fear.

She turned back with sad face, crying, "Mercy, mercy, Sir, show to a silly dame subject to hard mischance and to your mighty will."

Her humble manner, her rich garments, and glorious appearance, much moved his stout, heroic soul, and he said, "Dear Dame, your sudden overthrow stirs my pity. But now put fear aside and tell who you are, and who he was that took your part.''

Then she melted in tears and began to lament thus : "The wretched woman, whom an unhappy hour has made your slave, before false fortune betrayed me, was the only daughter of an Emperor who had the wide West under his rule and had his throne on the Tiber. He in my fresh youth betrothed me to the only heir of a most mighty king, rich and wise. There was never a Prince so faithful and so fair or so meek; but before the day of my marriage shone, my dearest lord fell into the hands of his accursed foes, and was cruelly slain. His blessed body was afterward hidden from me, and in my great sorrow I went forth to find his woeful corpse. Many years I strayed throughout the world, languishing with a wounded mind.