So proved it eke that gracious god of wine,
When, for to compass Philyra's hard love,
He turned himself into a fruitful vine,

And into her fair bosom made his grapes decline. [The fact, however, is that it was Bacchus who loved Erigone, and Saturn Philyra; nor did the latter turn himself into a centaur, but into a horse.] It were long to tell the amours of Mars with Venus, and with many other nymphs; or how the little God of Love did not spare his own dear mother, nor sometimes even himself,

That he might taste the sweet consuming woe,
Which he had wrought to many others moe.

Kings, queens, lords, ladies, knights, and damsels gent,
Were heaped together with the vulgar sort,
And mingled with the rascal rabblement,
Without respect of person or of port,

To show Dan Cupid's power and great effort:
And round about a border was entrailed
Of broken bows and arrows shivered short;
And a long bloody river through them railed,
So lively, and so like, that living sense it failed.b
So much for the paintings on the tapestry. Then,
at the upper end of that fair room

There was an altar built of precious stone
Of passing value and of great renowm,
On which there stood an image all alone

Of massy gold, which with his own light shone ;
And wings it had with sundry colours dight,
More sundry colours than the proud pavone
Bears in his boasted fan, or Iris bright

с

When her discoloured bow she spreads through heaven bright.*

Blindfold he was; and in his cruel fist

A mortal bow and arrows keen did hold,

With which he shot at random when him list,
Some headed with sad lead, some with pure gold;

* It probably should be "heaven's height."

(Ah! man, beware how thou those darts behold!)
A wounded dragon under him did lie,

Whose hideous tail his left foot did enfold,

And with a shaft was shot through either eye,
That no man forth might draw, ne no man remedy.

And underneath his feet was written thus,
"Unto the Victor of the gods this be:"
And all the people in that ample house
Did to that image bow their humble knee.

Transfixed with astonishment, Britomart gazes long upon the splendid scene around her; then, looking back, she perceives written over the door the words Be Bold; she cannot make out what the inscription may mean; but, no whit thereby discouraged," she advances boldly into the next room.

66

Much fairer than the former was that room,
And richlier, by many parts, arrayed;
For not with arras made in painful loom,
But with pure gold it all was overlaid,

Wrought with wild anticks which their follies played
In the rich metal, as they living were:

A thousand monstrous forms therein were made,
Such as false Love doth oft upon him wear;

For love in thousand monstrous forms doth oft appear.

And, all about, the glistring walls were hong
With warlike spoils and with victorious preys
Of mighty conquerors and captains strong,
Which were whilome captived in their days
To cruel love, and wrought their own decays:

Their swords and spears were broke, and hauberques rent,
And their proud girlands of triumphant bays
Trodden in dust with fury insolent,

To show the victor's might and merciless intent.

Britomart marvels greatly that all this while no living thing has appeared that there should be nothing but emptiness and solemn silence over all the place. Then, as she looks around, she sees again the words Be bold, Be bold, written over every door; till at last, at the

d Images.

upper end of the room in which she is, she discovers one iron door on which is written Be not too bold. This perplexes her still more; but chance of penetrating the mystery for the present there seems none; night, too, now begins to wrap everything in darkness; so all she can do is to remain where she is, without either laying aside her armour or resigning herself to sleep.

Canto XII. (45 stanzas).—At last, when it is quite dark, a trumpet sounds, and then, after a storm of thunder and lightning and earthquake, and a stench of smoke and sulphur, lasting "from the fourth hour of the night until the sixth,"

All suddenly a stormy whirlwind blew

Throughout the house, that clapped every door,
With which that iron wicket open flew,
As it with mighty levers had been tore;
And forth issued, as on the ready floor
Of some theatre, a grave personage
That in his hand a branch of laurel bore,
With comely haviour and countenance sage,
Yclad in costly garments fit for tragic stage.
Proceeding to the midst he still did stand,
As if in mind he somewhat had to say;
And to the vulgar beckoning with his hand,
In sign of silence, as to hear a play,
By lively actions he gan bewray
Some argument of matter passioned;
Which done, he back retired soft away,
And passing by, his name discovered,
Ease, on his robe in golden letters cyphered.
The noble maid still standing all this viewed,
And marvelled at his strange intendiment :
With that a joyous fellowship issued
Of minstrels making goodly merriment,
With wanton bards, and rhymers impudent;
All which together sung most cheerfully
A lay of love's delight with sweet concent: e
After whom marched a jolly company.
In manner of a mask, enranged orderly.

The whiles a most delicious harmony

In full strange notes was sweetly heard to sound,
That the rare sweetness of the melody

The feeble senses wholly did confound,

And the frail soul in deep delight nigh drowned :
And, when it ceased, shrill trumpets loud did bray,
That their report did far away rebound;
And, when they ceased, it gan again to play,
The whiles the maskers marched forth in trim array.
The first was Fancy, like a lovely boy

Of rare aspect and beauty without peer,
Matchable either to that imp of Troy,
Whom Jove did love and chose his cup to bear;
Or that same dainty lad, which was so dear
To great Alcides, that, whenas he died,
He wailed womanlike with many a tear,
And every wood and every valley wide

He filled with Hylas' name; the nymphs eke Hylas cried.
His garment neither was of silk nor say,
But painted plumes in goodly order dight,
Like as the sunburnt Indians do array
Their tawny bodies in their proudest plight:

As those same plumes, so seemed he vain and light,
That by his gait might easily appear;

For still he fared as dancing in delight,
And in his hand a windy fan did bear,

That in the idle air he moved still here and there.

And him beside marched amorous Desire,

Who seemed of riper years than the other swain,
Yet was that other swain this elder's sire,

And gave him being, common to them twain:

His garment was disguised very vain,

And his embroidered bonnet sat awry:

Twixt both his hands few sparks he close did strain, Which still he blew and kindled busily,

That soon they life conceived, and forth in flames did fly.

Next after him went Doubt, who was yclad
In a discoloured coat of strange disguise,
That at his back a broad capuccio had,
And sleeves dependent Albanese-wise;

f Hood.

He looked askew with his mistrustful eyes;
And nicely trod, as thorns lay in his way,
Or that the floor to shrink he did avise;
And on a broken reed he still did stay

His feeble steps, which shrunk when hard thereon he lay.

With him went Danger, clothed in ragged weed

Made of bear's skin, that him more dreadful made;
Yet his own face was dreadful, ne did need
Strange horror to deform his grisly shade:
A net in the one had, and a rusty blade
In the other was; this Mischief, that Mishap;
With the one his foes he threatened to invade,
With the other he his friends meant to enwrap:
For whom he could not kill he practised to entrap.
Next him was Fear, all armed from top to toe,
Yet thought himself not safe enough thereby,
But feared each shadow moving to or fro;
And, his own arms when glittering he did spy
Or clashing heard, he fast away did fly,
As ashes pale of hue, and winged heeled;
And evermore on Danger fixed his eye,
Gainst whom he always bent a brazen shield,
Which his right hand unarmed fearfully did wield.
With him went Hope in rank, a handsome maid,
Of cheerful look and lovely to behold;
In silken samite she was light arrayed,
And her fair locks were woven up in gold:
She always smiled, and in her hand did hold
An holy-water-sprinkle, dipped in dew,
With which she sprinkled favours manifold
On whom she list, and did great liking shew,
Great liking unto many, but true love to few.
And after them Dissemblance and Suspect
Marched in one rank, yet an unequal pair;
For she was gentle and of mild aspect,
Courteous to all and seeming debonaire,
Goodly adorned and exceeding fair;

Yet was that all but painted and purloined,

And her bright brows were decked with borrowed hair;

A stuff partly of silk.