The Faerie queene

Book I, Canto L Ver. BZ.— Front. THE

FAERIE QUEENE:

DISPOSED INTO TWELVE B K E S,

FASHIONING

XII MOrvALL YERTUES.

By EDMUND SPENSER

TO WHICH IS ADDED HIS

EPITHALAMIOK

A NEW EDITION, WITH A GLOSSARY.

NEW YORK : D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,

846 & 848 BKOADWAY.

M.DCCO.LIX.

fO THE MOST HIGH MIGHTIE AND MAGNIFICENT EMPRESSE

ELIZABETH

BY THE GRACE OF GOD

DEPENDOVR OP THE FAITH ETC, EEB MOST HUMBLE SERVAUNT

EDMVND SPENSEE

DOTH IN ALL HUMILITIE DEDICATE PRESENT AND CONSECBATS

THESE HIS LABOVRS [TQ UVS WITH THE ETERNITIE OF HER FAMS.

MEMOIR OF EDMUND SPENSEB.

The reign of Elizabeth, various as may be the opinions held respecting the " virgin queen" herself, was unquestionably most favourable to the cultivation of wit and genius. A court sufficiently lax to allow of a tolerable freedom of language, but yet removed from anything like the broad coarseness which was hereafter to distinguish or disgrace the reign of Charles II. — a sovereign, herself no mean scholar, and a hearty lover of learning and genius in others — finally, a state of national prosperity, consequent on our freedom irom. a foreign enthraldoni; cuch were, indeed, advantages rarely combined in one reign, esjjecially in a reign of such long duration ; and it was not to be wondered at, if the times that developed the abilities of a Burleigh, a Hatton, or a Kaleigh, should have also found fame and renown for a poet like the hero ©f the present narrative.

Obscure as are the accounts of his birth and origin, it seems probable, from certain passages in his poems, that he was at least respectably connected. But his early prospects appear to have been but moderate. Born in London, he was sent to Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, where he subsequently competed for a fellowship against Andrewes, afterwards Bishop of Winchester. His failure (if indeed to be defeated by such a man as Andrewes can be called a failure), and the narrow state of his finances, compelled him to quit the university. He took up his residence with some friends in the north, and, being just in that state of pocket when love is most imprudent, he very naturally fell in love at once, therein following the example of nine-tenths of humanity.

Love, if a man be a poet at heart, is pretty sure to find its vent through that most charming of the liberal arts, and we may be said to owe the " Shepherd's Calendar," and other pastoral poems, to the lady whom Spenser everywhere celebrates, and whose cruelty he deplores, under the name of Rosalind. Spenser's love was, so far, profitable both to himself and to posterity; and when we read this delightful specimen of early English bucolic, we feel that, in the words of Sir Mulberry Hawk, "it is to Rosalind's mamma's obliging marriage that we are indebted for so lAuch happiness."

Sir Philip Sidney, to whom this poem was dedicated, under the modest title of *' Immerito," took great notice of our hero, and being himself not merely "a lord among wits, and a wit among lords," but an able writer and judicious thinker, as well as no mean poet, his introduction proved of no small advantage to Spenser. As long as this great man lived, he extended the benefits of his fortune, advice, and influence to his poet-friend, and proved as constant, as he was liberal, a patron.

MEMOIR OF EDMUND SPENSES. V

Spenser quitted the north, and returned to the " Great Babylon," at the advice of some friends, who wished him to be near tlie court. To this he alludes in his sixth eclogue, where Hobbinol (i. e. his intimate friend Gabriel Harvey) persuades Colin {i. e. Spenser himself) to quit the hill country, and its barren solitudes, and seek a more genial soil.

It has, however, been doubted whether his acquaintance with Sidney began so early as has been above stated ; and the following story seems to render it more probable that he had already began^ the *' Faerie Queene." It is said, that on going to Leicester House, with the view of introducing himself to the theij.Mr. Sidney, he sent in a copy of the ninth canto of the first book of this poem. •' Mr. Sidney was much surprised with the description of Despair in that canto, and is said to have shown an unusual kind of transport on the discovery of so new and uncommor a genius. After he had read some stanzas, he turned to his steward and bade him give the person that brought the verses fifty pounds; but upon reading the next stanza, he ordered the sum to be doubled. The steward was no less surprised than his master, and thought it his duty to make some delay in executing so sudden and lavish a bounty; but upon reading one stanza more, Mr. Sidney raised his gratuity to two Jiundred pounds, and commanded the steward to give it immediately, lest, as he read further, he might be tempted to give away his whole estate."

Spenser did not, however, reap any immediate substantial benefit from this introduction, and, although chosen pofet-laureat, he for some time " wore a barren laurel, and possessed only the place without the pension" Burlei,c', whatever thougiits might be comprehended in his " shake of the head," appears to have taken no thouglit for our poet, and his neglect was rendered more serious by the constant absence of Sir Philip Sidney, either on diplomatic negotiations, or in tlie Low Country wars. He his plaintively alluded to these disappointments in his poena called the " Ruins of Time," as follows :—

•* O grief of griefs ! O gall of all good hearts ! To see that vertue should despised be Of such as first were rais'd for vertue's parts. And now broad spreading like an aged tree. Let none shoot up that nigb. them planted be: O let not those of whom the Muse is scom'd. Alive or dead be by the Muse adorn'd."

"With still greater bitterness, he inveighs against the neglect of learning and poetry, in " The Tears of Calliope :" —

** Their great revenues all in sumptuous pride They spend, that nought to learning they may spare ; And the rich fee which Poets wont divide, Now Parasites and Sycophants do share."

But it would appear that Spenser, like m^ny others, was, to some extent, the cause of his own misfortune. Tlie following lines, in Mother Hubbard's Tale, are supposed to have been construed by the courtier into a personal alTront, for, as the author* of our poet's life observes, " even the sighs of a miserable man are sometimes resented as an affront by him that is the occasion of them."

"Full little knowest thou that hast not try'd, "What hell it is, in misery long to bide,

* Hughes, appended to the edition printed by Tonson, I2mo, ITli.

Yl MEMOIR OF EDMUND 8PENSEB.

To lose good days, that might be better spent. To waste long nights in pensive discontent ; To speed to-day, to be put Imck to-morrow ; To feed on Hope, to pine with Fear and Sorrow; To have thy prince's grace, yet want herpeer'Si ,To have thy asking, yet wait many years: To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares ; To eat thy heart thro' comfortless despair ; To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to nm. To spend, to give, to want, to be undone."

At the end of the sixth book of his great poem, the author plainly alludes to this unfortunate ill-will of Burleigh's. Describing Detraction AS a monster, he concludes with the following stanza:

*' Ne may this homely verse, of many meanest, Hope to escape his venomous despite. More than my former writs, all were they cleanest From baleful blot, and free from all that wite "With which some wicked tongues did it backbite, • And bring into a mighty peer's displeasure. That never so deserved to endite. Therefore do you, my rimes, keep better measure.

And seek to please, that now is counted wise men's treasure.

On one occasion, Elizabeth had ordered a gratuity of one liundrcd pounds to be given to our poet ; but my Lord-Treasurer Burleigh objected to it, saying, " What ! all this for a single song!" The que^n replied, *• Then give what is reason," Spenser waited for some time, but finding the queen's intended bounty not forthcoming, he took an opportunity to present the following epigrammatic petition to her majesty:

* * I was promis'd on a time To Jiave reason for my rhime ; From that time unto this season, I receiv'd nor rhime nor reason.'*^

This had its efiTect ; my lord-treasurer came in for a rebuke, and the poet got his money.

Our poet's fortune began to improve ; his acquaintance with the great and the powerful increased, and in the year 1579 he was sent abroad by the Earl of Leicester, but upon what service does not appear. But when Lord Grey was chosen deputy of Ireland, he received the appointment of secretary. If we may judge by his "Discourse on the State of Ireland," his skill in political science must have been considerable, and. the chang-e from the listlessness of a merely poetical existence to the duties and anxieties of active life, doubtless had a most healthy influence upon his mind and disposition. A fair estate of 3000 acres in tho county of Cork, and a good house in Kilcohnan, his grounds being intereected by the beautiful river Mulla, were a sufficient provision to give him freedom from want, if not the importance of a wealthy landowner.

About this time, he contracted an intimate friendship with Sir Walter Kaleigh, then a captain under Lord Grey. In the poem entitled " Colia Clout's come home again," Sir Walter is allegorically described under the name of the " Shepherd of the Ocean." We gladly quote, after other writers, the following exquisite lines, so descriptive of the origin of this refined and affectionate friendship.

**I saile, as was my trade.

Under the foot of Mole, that mountain hore. Keeping my sheep amongst the coolly shade Of the green alders, by the Mulla's shore;

MEMOIR OP EDMUND SPENSEB. tS.

There a strange shepherd chanc'd to find me out» Whether allured with my pipe's delight. Whose pleasing sound yshriiled far about. Or thither led by chance, I know not right : Whom when I asked from what place he came. And how he hight ; himself he did ycleep The Shepherd of the Ocean by name. And said he came far from the main-sea dee^ He sitting me beside, in that same shade Provoked me to play some pleasant fit; And when he heard the music that I made. He found himself full greatly pleas'd at it. Yet, emuling my pipe, he took in hand My pipe^ before that emuled of many, And plaid thereon, for well that skill he con'd. Himself as skilful in that art as any."

Besides many advantages consequent on his introduction to Sir Walte? Ealeigh, our poet was now destined to have Cupid propitious, and we find a new attachment ripen into a marriage, which he himself celebrated iu his •• Epithalamion."

The events of a poet's life are seldom very marked or important in their character, and Edmund Spenser's history is no exception to the rule. The progress of the "Faerie Queene" was the main employment of his life, t/ut its tranquillity was soon destined to be disturbed. The unfortunate rebellion of the Earl of Desmond, in which he was plundered and robbed of his estate, forced him to return to England. The griefs of one bankrupt in fortune, and in declining health, were aggravated by the death of his best friend, Sir Philip Sidney. Twelve years he survived his noble patron, but they were years of sadness and painful recollections. Death, the great leveller alike of enemies and friends, overtook both the courtly Burleigh and the poet he had slighted, if not injured, in the year 1598.

He was buried in Westminster Abbey, near his predecessor, and, we might almost say master, in the art of poetry, Geofirey Chaucer. His obsequies were attended by many poets of his time, who cast copies of verses into his grave ; and his monument was erected at the cost of Kobert Devereux, the imfortunate Earl of Essex, with the following inscription: —

♦' Heare lyes (expecting the second comminge of our Saviour Christ Jesus) the body of Edmund Spenser, the prince of poets in his tyme; whose divine spirit needs noe other witness, then the works whicli he left behind him. He was borne in London in the yeare 1510, and died in theyeare 159 6.**

Camden's account of his death presents some important differences. He says that he died in 1598, in the forty- first year of the queen's reign. But the mistake about his birth is still greater. How could he, at tliia rate, have stood for a fellowship in competition with Andrewes, who was not born till 1555? •' Moreover," as Hughes observes, " if this account of his birth were true, he must have been above sixty years old when he first published his " Shepherd's Calendar," an age not the most proper for love-poetry ; and in his seventieth year when he entered into business under the Lord Grey, who was created deputy of Ireland in 1580." It seems, on the whole, probable that the original inscription, said to have been in Latin, and published in the year IGOO, in a small volume on the monument of Westminster, was the correct one, and as this speaks of him as dying " an vntimely death," the date 1510 must be laid to the caf elessness of the grayer, or to some mistake in those who superln*

Till MEMOIE OF EDMUND SPENSEB.

tended the new inscription. I attempt a translation of the inscription and epigram in question :—

"Edmund Spenser, of London, unquestionably prince of the English poets of our age, whicli his poems, written under the favour of the Muses, and of his genius that shall live hereafter, prove. He died an immature death, in the year of grace 1598, and is buried near unto Godfrey Chaucer, who first most happily adorned poesy in the English language. Upon whom was written these epigrams : —

**Kext Chaucer's bones sleeps Edmund Spenser's dust in death ; In genius each, in tomb, the other nign. Here, near great poet Chaucer, poet Spenser, lie. As near in sepulture, as poesy.

While thou wert Uving, England's muse lived joyauntly ; Dying, while thou art dead, she fears to die."

It may be observed, that the stanzas are distinct epitaphs, of which the first and second couplets are merely the same thoughts differently expressed.

Little as is known of the life of our poet, his works are as much a part of our literature as can be well imagined. Of his pastorals, or his prose work, I will not speak on the present occasion, but, briefly to sum up the beauties of the "Faerie Queene," I may observe, that in no poem is the elevation of morality blended with the romance of chivalry with such singular success — in no work, of whatsoever age or clime, do we find the development of that graceful elevation of the female sex from the degradation of their feudal lords, so nobly an<i so devotedly set forth —nowhere, not even in Milton, are the vagaries of the Pagan world made so admirably subservient to the purposes of a Christian lesson— and, above all, no ancient English writer can be so safely, or so profitably, read even by the young. As a study of the English language, the " Faerie Queene" is not only highly instructive, but is less repulsive and diflScult than other contemporaneous writers, while, as a glorious Btorehouse of fancy, of legend, and of brilliant allegory, we can only say, with Lucretius,

A

LETTER OF THE AUTHOR'S,

EXPOUNDING HIS WHOLE INTENTION IN THE COURSE 0? THIS "WORKE; WHICH, FOR THAT IT GIVETH GREAT LIGHT TO THE EEADER, FOR THE BETTER UNDERSTANDING IS HEREUNTO ANNEXED.

TO THE EIGHT NOBLE AND VALOROUS

SIR WALTER RALEIGH, Knight,

SlE,

Knowing how doubtfully all Allegories ipay be construed, and this booke of mine, which I have entituled T/ie Faerie Qtieene, being a continued Allegory, or darke Conceit, I have thought good, as well for avoyding of gealous opinions and misconstructions, as also for your better light in reading thereof, (being so by j^ou commanded,) to discover unto you the general intention and meaning, which in the w^hole course i hereof I have fashioned, without expressing of any particular purposes, or by- accidents, therein occasioned. The general end, therefore, of all the booke, is to fashion a gentleman or noble person in vertuous and gentle discipline; which for that I conceived shoulde be most plausible and pleasing, being coloured with an historical fiction, the which the most part of men delight to re. d, rather for variety of matter than for profite of the ensample, I ?hose the History e of King Arthure, as most fitte for the excellency of his person, being made famous by many mens former workes, and also furthest from the daunger of envy, and suspition of present time. In which I have followed all the antique poets historically first Homere, who in the persons of Agamemnon and Ulysses hath ensampled a good governour and a vertuous man, the one in his Ilias, the other in his Odysseis; then Yirgil, whose like intention waa to doe in the person of .^neas; after him Ariosto com*

prised them botli in his Orlando; and lately Tasso dissevered them again, and formed both parts in two persons, namely, that part which they in philosophy call JEtJiice, or Vertues of a private man, coloured in his Kianaldo; the other named Folitice, in hig Godfredo. By ensample of which excellent e poets, I labour to pourtraict in Arthure, before he was king, the image of a brave knight, perfected in the twelve private Morall Vertues, as Aristotle hath devised; the which is the purpose of these first twelve bookes : which if I finde to be well accepted, I may be perhaps encoraged to frame the other part of Polliticke Vertues in his person, after that hee came to be king. To some I know this methode will seem displeasaunt, which had rather Lave good discipline delivered plainly in way of precepts, or sermoned at large, as they use, then thus clowdily enwrapped in allegorical devises. But such, me seeme, should be satisfide with the use of these days, seeing all things accounted by their showes, and nothing esteemed of, that is not delightfull and pleasing to commune sence. For this cause is Xenophon preferred before Plato, for that the one, in the exquisite depth of his iudgement, formed a communewelth, such as it should be; but the other, in the person of Cyrus, and the Persians, fashioned a government, such as might best be: so much more profitable and gratious is doctrine by ensample then by rule. So have I laboured to do in the person of Arthure: whom I conceive, after his long education by Timon, to whom he was by Merlin dehvered to be brought up, so soone as he was borne of the Lady Igrayne, to have scene in a dream or vision the Paerie Queene, with whose excellent beauty ravished, he awaking resolved to seeke her out, and so being by Merlin armed, and by Timon throughly instructed, he went to seeke her forth in Faerie Land. In that Faerie Queene I meane Glory in my generail intention, but in my particular I conceive the most excellent and glorious person of our soveraine the Queens, and her kingdom in Faerie Land. And yet, in some places els, I do otherwise shadow her. For considering she beareth two persons, the ©ne of a moist royal Queene or Empresse, the other of a most vertuous and beautifuU lady, this latter part in some places I doe express in Belphcebe, fashioning her name according to your owne excellent conceipt of Cynthia: PhcBbe and Cynthia being both names of Diana. So in the person of Prince Arthure I sette forth Magnificence in particular ; which Vertue for that (according to Aristotle and the rest) it is the perfection of all the rest, and conteineth in it them all, therefore in the whole course I mention the deeds of Arthure applyable to that Vertue, which I write of in that booke. But of the xii. other Vertues, I make xii. other kjiights the patrones, for

SPENSEB TO SIR WALTER SALEIGH. XI

the more variety of the history : of which these three bookes contayn three.

The first, of the Knight of the Eedcrosse, in whom I expresse Holynes: the seconde of Sir Guy on, in whome I sette forth Temperaunce; the third of Britomartis a lady-knight, in whom I picture Chastity. But, because the beginning of the whole worke seemeth abrupte and as depending upon other antecedents, it needs that ye know the occasion of these three knights severall adventures. For the methode of a poet historical is not such, as of an historiographer. For an historiographer discourseth of affayres orderly as they were donne, accounting as well the times as the actions; but a poet thrusteth into the middest, even where it most concerneth him, and there recoursing to the thinges forepaste, and divining of thinges to come; maketh a pleasing analysis of all.

The begmning therefore of my history, if it were to be told hy an historiographer, should be the twelfth booke, which is the last; where I devise that the Faerie Queene kept her annual feaste xh. days; uppon which xii. severall dayes, the occasions of the xii. severall adventures hapned, which, being undertaken by xii. severall knights, are in these xii. books severally handled and discoursed. The first was this. In the beginning of the feast, there presented himselfe a tall clownishe young man, who falling before the Queene of Faeries desired a boone (as the manner then was) which during that feast she might not refuse; which was that hee might have the atchivement of any adventure, which during that feaste should happen. That being graunted, he rested him on the floore, unfitte through his rusticity for a better place. Soone after entred a faire ladye in mourning weedes, riding on a white asse, with a dwarfe behind her leading a warlike steed, that bore the arms of a knight, and his speare in the dwarfes hand. Shee, falling before the Queene of Faeries, complayned that her f\ither and mother, an ancient king and queene, had bene by an huge dragon many years shut up in a brasen castle, who thence suiTred them not to yssew; and therefore besought the Faerie Queene to assygne her some one of her knights to take on him that exployt. Presently that clownish person, upstarting, desired that adventure; whereat the Queene much wondering, and the lady much gainesaying, yet he earnestly importuned his desire. In the end the lady told him, that unlesse that armour which she brought, would serve him (that is, the armour of a Christian man specified by St. Paul, v. Ephes.) that he could not succeed in that enterprise: which being forthwith put upon him with dew furnitures thereunto, he seemed the goodliest man in al that company, and was well liked of the lady. And efte* adi 8PENSEB TO SIB WALTER BALEIGH.

soones tating on him kniglithood, and mounting on that Btraunge courser, he went forth with her on that adventure; where beginneth the first booke, viz.

A gentle knight was pricking on the playne, &c.

The second day there came in a palmer bearing an infant with bloody hands, whose parents he complayned to have bene slayn by an enchaantresse called Acrasia; and therefore craved of the Paerie Queene, to appoint him some knight to performe that adventure; which being assigned to Sir Gruyon, he presently went forth with that same palmer: which is the beginning of the second booke, and the whole subiect thereof. The ih'vd. day there came in a groome, who complained before the Faerie Queene, that a vile enchaunter, called Busirane, had in hand a most faire lady, called Amoretta, whom he kept in most grievous torment, because she would not yield him the pleasure of her body. "Whereupon Sir Scudamour, the lover of that lady, presently tooke on him that adventure. But being unable to performe it^ by reason of the hard enchauntments, after long sorrow, in the end met with Britomartis, who succoured him, and reskewed his love.

But, by occasion hereof, many other adventures are intermedled; but rather as accidents than intendments; as the love of Britoraart, the overthrow of Marin ell, the misery of Plorimell, the vertuousnes of Belphoebe, the lasciviousness of Hellenora; and m.any the like.

Thus much. Sir, I have briefly overronne to direct your understanding to the wel-head of the history; that, from thence gathering the whole intention of the conceit, ye may as in a handful gripe al the discourse, which otherwise may happily seem tedious and confused. So, humbly craving the continuance of your honourable favour towards me, and th* eternall establishment of your happines, I humbly take leave.

Yours most humbly affectionate,

ED. SPJENSES.

THE FIRST BOOKE

OF

THE FAEEIE QUEENE.

CONTAYNINO

Wje IHecjcntr of ii)t 3KniBT;t of ti^e H^tts CDrosse, or of l^oUucsse*

LO ! I, the man wliose Muse wliylome did mas"ke. As time her taught, in lowly shepherds weeds. Am now enforst, a farre unfitter taske, Por trumpets sterne to chaunge mine oaten reeds, And sing of knights and ladies gentle deeds ; Wiiose praises having slept in silence long, Me, all to meane, the sacred Muse areeds To blazon broade emongst her learned throng : Pierce warres and faithful loves shall moralize my song.

Help then, O holy virgin ! chiefe of nyne,

Thy weaker novice to perform thy will ;

Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne

The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still.

Of Faerie knights and fayrest Tanaquill,

Whom that most noble Briton prince so long

Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill.

That I must rue his undeserved wrong :

O, helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tongi

And thou, most dreaded impe of highest love,

Fairc Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart

At that good knight so cunningly didst rove.

That glorious fire it kindled in his hart ;

Lay now thy deadly heben bowe apart,

And, with thy mother mylde, come to mine ayde ;

Come, both ; aiid with you bring triumphant Mart,

In loves and gentle iollities arraid.

After his murdrous spoyles and bloudie rage allayd.

And with them eke, O goddesse heavenly bright,

Mirrour of grace and majestic divine,

Great Ladie of the greatest Isle, whose light

Like Phoabus lampe throughout the world doth shine.

Shed thy faire bcames into my feeble eyne.

And raise my thoughtes, too humble and too vile.

To thinke of that true gbrious type of thine,

The argument of mine afflicted stile :

Tjiie which to hcare vouciisafe. O dearest dread, awhilo

THE PAEEIE QTJEENa

CAISTTO I.

The patron of true Holinessd Foule Errour doth defeatej

Eypocrisie, him to entrappe.

Doth to his home entreate.

A GENTLE Imiglit was pricMng on the plaine, Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde. Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remained The cruel markes of many' a bloody fielde ; Yet armes till that time did he never wield : His angr}^ steede did chide his foming bitt, As much disdayning to the curbe to yield : ^ [Full ioUy knight he seemd, and faire did sitfc. As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitU

And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,

The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,

For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore

And dead, as living, ever him ador'd :

Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,

[For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had.

[Right, faithfull, true he was in deede and word;

But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad ;

Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.

Upon a great adventure he was bond. That greatest Gloriana to him gave, (That greatest glorious Queen e of Faery lond) To winne him worshippe, and her grace to have^ Which of all earthly things he most did crave. And ever as he rode, his hart did earne To prove his puissance in bat tell brave Upon his foe, and his new force to learne ; Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stearne.

A lovely ladie rode him faire beside. Upon a lowly asse more white then snow ; Yet she much whiter ; but the same did hida Under a vele, that wimpled was full low; And over all a blacke stole shee did throw. As one that inly mournd ; so was she sad. And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow; Seemed in heart some hidden care she had ; And by her in a line a milke-white lambe she lad.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

So pure and innocent, as that same lambe,

She was in life and every vertuous lore.

And by descent from royall lynage came

Of ancient kinges and queenes, that had of yore

Their scepters stretcht from east to westerne shore,

A,nd all the world in their subjection held ;

Till that infernal feeud with foule uprore

Torwasted all their land, and them expeld ;

Whom to avenge, she had this knight from far compeld.

Behind her farre away a dwarfe did lag,

That lasie seemd, in being ever last.

Or wearied with bearing of her bag

Of needments at his backe. Tims as they past.