nity;" and Psyche "tendered" her no less carefully than her own daughter Pleasure, to whom she Made her companion, and her lessoned In all the lore of love and goodly womanhead; in which when she had grown to perfect ripeness, she brought her forth into the world's view to be the example of true love, And loadstar of all chaste affection To all fair ladies that do live on ground. Coming to Fairy Court, she there wounded many hearts; But she to none of them her love did cast, Save to the noble knight Sir Scudamore; the story of her faithful enduring attachment to whom, however, is deferred for the present, till we have heard what happened to Florimel in her further search for "her lover dear, her dearest Marinel." We have Spenser's own testimony, in his letter to Raleigh, that by Belphoebe he, partly or occasionally at least, designs to picture Elizabeth; and it is a notion of some of the commentators that Amoretta in this Canto may be intended to shadow forth Mary Stuart. But scarcely any one of these interpretations will be found to hold good throughout. Canto VII. (61 stanzas).-Florimel, continuing to fly even when no one pursued, rode hard all the night, and then, when her white palfrey could carry her no longer, proceeded on foot till she found herself on the declivity of a hill overlooking a little woody valley, where a thin smoke rising among the trees directed her wearied steps to a little cottage built of sods and thatched with reeds. This proves to be the miserable abode of a malignant witch, who is, however, moved to compassion by the maid's tears and desolate condition; and the latter, invited to enter, seats herself beside the hag on the dusty ground, as glad of that small rest as bird of tempest gone." When she has put in such order as she can her 66 torn garments and dishevelled hair, she so astonishes her rude hostess by her magnificent beauty, that, doubting whether she were not a goddess, or, at the least, one of Diana's nymphs, she is almost ready to fall down and adore her; and, in truth, enthusiastically exclaims the poet, To adore thing so divine as beauty were but right. She awakens the same wonder and awe in the witch's son, a lazy good-for-nothing fellow, who lives with his mother, when she first flashes upon his sight on his return home at undertime (or the decline of the day); and, even for a considerable while that she remains with them, although he soon begins to look upon her with other thoughts, and she on her part by her meek and mild demeanour and her gentle speech encourages their familiarity, yet something divine about her still restrains him from uttering his feelings and wishes. "His caitiff thought durst not so high aspire." At length, however, finding both herself and her palfrey completely restored, she quietly withdraws herself from the "desert mansion" one morning before the dawn of day. The hag and her son, on awaking and finding their guest gone, both fall to moaning as if they had been undone; the son in particular is frantic with grief and rage. The witch now sets to work to endeavour either to bring her back again, or to work her destruction, by her devilish arts and in cantations. Eftsoons out of her hidden cave she called An hideous beast of horrible aspect, That could the stoutest courage have appalled; But likest it to an hyena was That feeds on women's flesh, as others feed on grass. This beast she charges to pursue Florimel, and either f Quaintly chosen. capture or devour her. "The monster, swift as word that from her went," soon comes within sight of the flying damsel; and, spite first of the efforts of her nimble steed and then of her own fleet limbs, she would have become his prey, had she not, as she reached the seashore, leapt into a little boat that chanced to lie floating close to the spot, with the old fisherman asleep in it while his nets are drying on the sand, and instantly pushed it off with the oar. The monster is obliged to satisfy himself with wreaking his spite on the palfrey; but, while he is tearing the poor milk-white beast to pieces, suddenly there comes riding up to the place the good knight Sir Satyrane, whom the reader will remember as Una's protector in the Sixth Canto of the First Book, and who, we may here notice, is supposed to be intended to represent Sir John Perrot, generally believed to be a natural son of Henry VIII., who had been Lord Deputy of Ireland from 1583 to 1588; but, in 1590, when these first three Books of the Fairy Queen were published, was lying a prisoner in the Tower, where, after having been brought to trial and by an iniquitous verdict found guilty of high treason, he died in September, 1592. Satyrane, it seems, is a lover of Florimel, and, knowing her palfrey, he greatly fears that some evil has happened to that fair maid, the flower of woman's pride." He finds, too, her golden girdle, which she had dropt in her flight, and that confirms his apprehensions. But this riband, "which that virgin wore about her slender waist," proves immediately of great service in binding the monster, whom Satyrane only subdues by the most Herculean exertions, and neither with strength nor sword can destroy-" his maker with her charms had framed him so well:" as soon as he felt the touch of the girdle, he roared aloud, we are told, For great despite of that unwonted band, But trembled like a lamb fled from the prey; Yet never learned he such service till that day. But a new adventure is at hand for the stout Sir Satyrane. As he is thus leading the beast along he perceives at a distance a giantess flying on a dapple grey courser from a knight who pursues her with all his might, while before her, lying athwart her horse, she bears a doleful squire bound hand and foot. Satyrane lets go his captive beast, and, when he couches his spear and runs at the giantess, she also instantly addresses herself to fight and throws aside her load: Like as a goshawk, that in foot doth bear Her fiery eyes with furious sparks did stare, And with blasphemous banns High God in pieces tear. She proves more than a match for Satyrane, whom, after having stunned him with a blow of her huge iron mace, she plucks out of his saddle, and is carrying off with her, laid athwart her horse, much as she had had the squire, when the other knight comes up and attacks her, and she is again compelled to drop her prey. With this new assailant, however, she has no inclination to fight, but tries to escape from him by flight as before. Meanwhile Satyrane comes up to the squire, whom he finds to be a singularly handsome youth, and who, as soon as he has been set at liberty from his fetters, proceeds to explain what they have seen. The giantess, he tells Satyrane, is the terrible Argante, of the race of the Titans ; she and her twin brother, the mighty Oliphant, were the children of Earth, by her own son Typhoeus. She is a very monster and miracle of licentiousness; he himself, the squire states, is only one of innumerable youths whom she had carried off. As for my name," says he, "it mistreth not (it signifies not) to tell :" "Call me the Squire of Dames; that me beseemeth well." 8 Pigeon. The knight, he goes on to relate, whom Sir Satyrane had seen pursuing the giantess, is no knight, but a "fair virgin," called Palladine, famous for deeds of arms, above all dames and even many knights: "Ne any," says he, 66 may that monster match in fight, But she, or such as she, that is so chaste a wight." The Squire of Dames then relates his own story, which is imitated from the Host's Tale in the Twenty-eighth Canto of the Orlando Furioso. Fair Columbel, the gentle lady whom he loves and serves, having charged him to go forth and try how many other ladies he could win, he had found such favour with the sex, that ere the end of the year he had returned to her, bringing with him the pledges of no fewer than three hundred conquests. His reward was that he should forthwith resume his travels, and not again present himself before her till he should have found as many other dames who should "abide for ever chaste and sound," for all the suit he could make to them. "Ah gentle squire,” quoth Satyrane, -" tell at one word, How many foundst thou such to put in thy record ?” For only three they were disposed so well; And yet three years I now abroad have strayed And of the three the only one who refused the love of the comely squire on principle was a damsel of low degree, the inmate of a country cottage; yet he admits that this one was as fair as she was good. 66 Perdy," said Satyrane, "thou Squire of Dames, h Taken. |