To which al men doe ayme, rich to be made! Such grace now to be happy is before thee laid."
"Certes," sayd he, “I n'ill thine offred grace,
Ne to be made so happy doe intend!
Another blis before mine eyes I place,
Another happines, another end.
To them that list, these base regardes I lend;
But I in armes and in atchievements brave
Do rather choose my flitting houres to spend,
And to be lord of those that riches have,
Then them to have my selfe, and be their servile sclave."
Thereat the feend his gnashing teeth did grate,
And grieved so long to lacke his greedie pray,
For well he weenèd that so glorious bayte
Would tempt his guest to take thereof assay;
Had he so doen, he had him snatcht away
More light then culver in the faulcons fist.
Eternall God thee save from such decay!
But whenas Mammon saw his purpose mist,
Him to entrap unwares another way he wist.
1580-90.
There the most dainție paradise on ground
It selfe doth offer to his sober eye,
In which all pleasures plenteously abownd,
And none does others happinesse envye:
The painted flowres, the trees upshooting hye,
The dales for shade, the hilles for breathing space,
The trembling groves, the christall running by,
And, that which all faire workes doth most aggrace,
The art which all that wrought appeared in no place.
One would have thought (so cunningly the rude
And scornèd partes were mingled with the fine)
That Nature had for wantonesse ensude
Art, and that Art at Nature did repine;
So striving each th' other to undermine,
Each did the others worke more beautify;
So diff'ring both in willes agreed in fine:
So all agreed, through sweete diversity,
This gardin to adorne with all variety.
And in the midst of all a fountaine stood,
Of richest substance that on earth might bee,
So pure and shiny that the silver flood
Through every channell running one might see.
Most goodly it with curious ymageree
Was overwrought, and shapes of naked boyes;
Of which some seemd with lively jollitee
To fly about, playing their wanton toys,
Whylest others did themselves embay in liquid joyes.
And over all of purest gold was spred
A trayle of yvie in his native hew;
For the rich metall was so colourèd
That wight who did not well avised it vew
Would surely deeme it to bee yvie trew:
Low his lascivious armes adown did creepe,
That, themselves dipping in the silver dew,
Their fleecy flowres they tenderly did steepe,
Which drops of christall seemd for wantones to weep.
Infinit streames continually did well
Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to see,
The which into an ample laver fell,
And shortly grew to so great quantitie
That like a litle lake it seemd to bee;
Whose depth exceeded not three cubits hight,
That through the waves one might the bottom see,
All paved beneath with jaspar shining bright,
That seemd the fountaine in that sea did sayle upright.
Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound,
Of all that mote delight a daintie eare,
Such as attonce might not on living ground,
Save in this paradise, be heard elswhere.
Right hard it was for wight which did it heare
To read what manner musicke that mote bee;
For all that pleasing is to living eare
Was there consorted in one harmonee:
Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all agree.
The joyous birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade,
Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet;
Th' angelicall soft trembling voyces made
To th' instruments divine respondence meet;
The silver-sounding instruments did meet
With the base murmure of the waters fall;
The waters fall, with difference discreet,
Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call;
The gentle warbling wind low answerèd to all.
Calidore hostes with Meliboe,
And loves fayre Pastorell;
Coridon envies him, yet he
For ill rewards him well.
Now turne againe my teme, thou jolly swayne,
Backe to the furrow which I lately left.
I lately left a furrow, one or twayne,
Unploughed, the which my coulter hath not cleft,
Yet seemed the soyle both fayre and frutefull eft,
As I it past; that were too great a shame,
That so rich frute should be from us bereft,
Besides the great dishonour and defame
Which should befall to Calidores immortall name.
Great travell hath the gentle Calidore
And toyle endurèd, sith I left him last
Sewing the Blatant Beast; which I forbore
To finish then, for other present hast.
Full many pathes and perils he hath past,
Through hils, through dales, throgh forests, and throgh
In that same quest which fortune on him cast,
Which he achieved to his owne great gaines,
Reaping eternall glorie of his restlesse paines.
So sharply he the monster did pursew
That day nor night he suffred him to rest,
Ne rested he himselfe but natures dew,
For dread of daunger not to be redrest,
If he for slouth forslackt so famous quest.
Him first from court he to the citties coursèd,
And from the citties to the townes him prest,
And from the townes into the countrie forsèd,
And from the country back to private farmes he scorsèd.
From thence into the open fields he fled,
Whereas the heardes were keeping of their neat,
And shepheards singing to their flockes that fed
Layes of sweete love and youthes delightfull heat.
Him thether eke, for all his fearefull threat,
He followed fast, and chacèd him so nie
That to the folds where sheepe at night doe seat,
And to the litle cots where shepherds lie
In winters wrathfull time, he forced him to flie.
There on a day, as he pursewed the chace,
He chaunst to spy a sort of shepheard groomes,
Playing on pypes and caroling apace,
The whyles their beasts there in the budded broomes 40
Beside them fed and nipt the tender bloomes;
For other worldly wealth they cared nought.
To whom Sir Calidore yet sweating comes,
And them to tell him courteously besought,
If such a beast they saw, which he had thether brought. 45
They answered him that no such beast they saw,
Nor any wicked feend that mote offend
Their happie flockes, nor daunger to them draw;
But if that such there were (as none they kend)
They prayd high God them farre from them to send. 50
Then one of them, him seeing so to sweat,
After his rusticke wise, that well he weend,
Offred him drinke to quench his thirstie heat,
And, if he hungry were, him offred eke to eat.
The knight was nothing nice where was no need,
And tooke their gentle offer; so adowne
They prayd him sit, and gave him for to feed
Such homely what as serves the simple clowne,
That doth despise the dainties of the towne.
Tho, having fed his fill, he there besyde
Saw a faire damzell, which did weare a crowne
Of sundry flowres with silken ribbands tyde,
Yclad in home-made greene that her owne hands had dyde.
Upon a little hillocke she was placed
Higher then all the rest, and round about
Environed with a girland, goodly graced,
Of lovely lasses; and them all without
The lustie shepheard swaynes sate in a rout,
The which did pype and sing her prayses dew,
And oft rejoyce, and oft for wonder shout,
As if some miracle of heavenly hew
Were downe to them descended in that earthly vew.
And soothly sure she was full fayre of face,
And perfectly well shapt in every lim,
Which she did more augment with modest grace
And comely carriage of her count'nance trim,
That all the rest like lesser lamps did dim:
Who, her admiring as some heavenly wight,
Did for their soveraine goddesse her esteeme,
And, caroling her name both day and night,
The fayrest Pastorella her by name did hight.
Ne was there heard, ne was there shepheards swayne,
But her did honour; and eke many a one
Burnt in her love, and with sweet pleasing payne
Full many a night for her did sigh and grone.
But most of all the shepheard Coridon
For her did languish, and his deare life spend:
Yet neither she for him nor other none
Did care a whit, ne any liking lend;
Though meane her lot, yet higher did her mind ascend.
Her whyles Sir Calidore there vewèd well,
And markt her rare demeanure, which him seemèd
So farre the meane of shepheards to excell
|