That was Ambition, rash desire to sty,
And every linck thereof a step of dignity.
Some thought to raise themselves to high By riches and unrighteous reward; [degree Some by close shouldring; some by flatteree; Others through friendes; others for base regard, And all by wrong waies for themselves prepard:
Those that were up themselves kept others low; Those that were low themselves held others hard,
And trees of bitter Gall, and Heben sad;
Dead sleeping Poppy, and black Hellebore;
Cold Coloquintida, and Tetra mad;
Ne suffred them to ryse or greater grow;
But every one did strive his fellow downe to Mortall Samnitis, and Cicuta bad,
Which whenas Guyon saw, he gan inquire, What meant that preace about that Ladies
And what she was that did so high aspyre?
Him Mammon answered; "That goodly one,
Whom all that folke with such contention
Doe flock about, my deare, my daughter is:
Honour and dignitie from her alone
Derived are, and all this worldes blis,
With which th' unjust Atheniens made to dy
Wise Socrates; who, thereof quaffing glad,
Pourd out his life and last Philosophy
To the fayre Critias, his dearest Belamy!
The Gardin of Proserpina this hight;
And in the midst thereof a silver seat,
With a thick Arber goodly over-dight,
In which she often usd from open heat
Her selfe to shroud, and pleasures to entreat :
For which ye men doe strive; few gett, but Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree,
With braunches broad dispredd and body great,
Clothed with leaves, that none the wood mote
And loaden all with fruit as thick as it might bee.
That goodly was their glory to behold:
Their fruit were golden apples glistring bright,
On earth like never grew, ne living wight
Like ever saw, but they from hence were sold;
For those which Hercules, with conquest bold
Got from great Atlas daughters, hence began,
And planted there did bring forth fruit of gold;
And those with which th' Euboean young man
Swift Atalanta, when through craft he her out
Here also sprong that goodly golden fruit,
With which Acontius got his lover trew,
Whom he had long time sought with fruitlesse
suit:
Here eke that famous golden Apple grew,
The which emongst the gods false Ate threw;
For which th' Idæan Ladies disagreed,
Till partiall Paris dempt it Venus dew,
And had of her fayre Helen for his meed,
That many noble Greekes and Trojans made
to bleed.
Then gan the cursed wretch alowd to cry, The warlike Elfe much wondred at this tree, Accusing highest Jove and gods ingrate, So fayre and great that shadowed all the And eke blaspheming heaven bitterly,
And his broad braunches, laden with rich fee,
Did stretch themselves without the utmost
bound
Of this great gardin, compast with a mound;
Which over-hanging, they themselves did
Which to behold he clomb up to the bancke,
And looking downe saw many damned wightes
In those sad waves, which direfull deadly
stancke,
Plonged continually of cruell Sprightes,
That with their piteous cryes, and yelling
shrightes,
As author of unjustice, there to let him dye.
He lookt a litle further, and espyde
Another wretch, whose carcas deepe was drent
Within the river, which the same did hyde ;
But both his handes, most filthy feculent,
Above the water were on high extent,
And faynd to wash themselves incessantly,
Yet nothing cleaner were for such intent,
But rather fowler seemed to the eye;
So lost his labour vaine and ydle industry.
The knight him calling asked who he was? Who, lifting up his head, him answerd thus ; I Pilate am, the falsest Judge, alas! And most unjust; that, by unrighteous And wicked doome, to Jewes despiteous They made the further shore resounden wide. Delivered up the Lord of life to dye, Emongst the rest of those same ruefull sightes, And did acquite a murdrer felonous; One cursed creature he by chaunce espide, [side. The whiles my handes I washt in purity, That drenched lay full deepe under the Garden The whiles my soule was soyld with fowle in
Deepe was he drenched to the upmost chin,
Yet gaped still as coveting to drinke
Of the cold liquor which he waded in;
Infinite moe tormented in like paine
He there beheld, too long here to be told:
Ne Mammon would there let him long remayne,
And stretching forth his hand did often thinke For terrour of the tortures manifold,
To reach the fruit which grew upon the In which the damned soules he did behold,
[mouth, But roughly him bes pake: "Thou fearefull foole,
But both the fruit from hand, and flood from Why takest not of that same fruite of gold?
Did fly abacke, and made him vainely swincke; Ne sittest downe on that same silver stoole,
The whiles he sterv'd with hunger, and with To rest thy weary person in the shadow coole?'
And now he has so long remained theare, That vitall powres gan wexe both weake and wan For want of food and sleepe, which two upbeare,
That none without the same enduren can:
For now three dayes of men were full out-
• Nay, nay, thou greedy Tantalus,' (quoth he) Like mightie pillours, this frayle life of man,
Abide the fortune of thy present fate;
And unto all that live in high degree,
Ensample be of mind intemperate,
To teach them how to use their present state."
Since he this hardy enterprize began:
Loe! where he now inglorious doth lye,
'The charge, which God doth unto me arrett, To proove he lived il that did thus fowly dye.'
Of his deare safety, I to thee commend ;
Yet will I not forgoe, ne yet forgett
The care thereof my selfe unto the end,
But evermore him succour, and defend
Against his foe and mine: watch thou, I pray,
For evill is at hand him to offend.'
So having said, eftsoones he gan display
His painted nimble wings, and vanisht quite
away.
The Palmer seeing his lefte empty place,
And his slow eies beguiled of their sight,
Woxe sore affraid, and standing still a space
Gaz'd after him, as fowle escapt by flight.
At last, him turning to his charge behight,
With trembling hand his troubled pulse gan
try;
Where finding life not yet dislodged quight,
He much rejoyst, and courd it tenderly,
As chicken newly hatcht, from dreaded destiny.
At last he spide where towards him did pace Two Paynim knights al armd as bright as skie,
And them beside an aged Sire did trace,
And far before a light-foote Page did flie,
That breathed strife and troublous enmitie.
Those were the two sonnes of Acrates old,
Who, meeting earst with Archimago slie
Foreby that idle strond, of him were told
That he which earst them combatted was Guyon
bold.
Which to avenge on him they dearly vowd, Where ever that on ground they mote him find:
False Archimage provokte their corage prowd,
And stryful Atin in their stubborne mind
Coles of contention and whot vengeaunce tind.
Now bene they come whereas the Palmer sate,
Keeping that slombred corse to him assind:
Well knew they both his person, sith of late
With him in bloody armes they rashly did
debate.
Fayr Sir,' said then the Palmer suppliaunt,
For knighthoods love doe not so fowle a deed,
Ne blame your honor with so shamefull vaunt
Of vile revenge. To spoile the dead of weed
Is sacrilege, and doth all sinnes exceed :
But leave these relicks of his living might
To decke his herce, and trap his tomb-blacke
steed.'
[have dight,
What herce or steed' (said he) should he
But be entombed in the raven or the kight?'
Whom when Pyrochles saw, inflam'd with rage
That sire he fowl bespake: Thou dotard vile,
That with thy brutenesse shendst thy comely
Abandon soone, I read, the caytive spoile [age,
Of that same outcast carcas, that erewhile
Made it selfe famous through false trechery,
And crownd his coward crest with knightly Till that they spyde where towards them did
With that, rude hand upon his shield he laid, And th' other brother gan his helme unlace, Both fiercely bent to have him disaraid;
Sayd he then to the Palmer: 'Reverend Syre,
What great misfortune hath betidd this knight?
Or did his life her fatall date expyre,
Or did he fall by treason, or by fight?
How ever, sure I rew his pitteous plight.'
Not one, nor other,' sayd the Palmer grave,
'For that same knights owne sword this is, Hath him befalne; bnt cloudes of deadly night
Which Merlin made by his almightie art
For that his noursling, when he knighthood
Therewith to doen his foes eternall smart.
The metall first he mixt with Medawart,
That no enchauntment from his dint might
Then it in flames of Aetna wrought apart,
And seven times dipped in the bitter wave
Of hellish Styx, which hidden vertue to it gave.
'The vertue is, that nether steele nor stone
The stroke thereof from entraunce may defend;
Ne ever may be used by his fone,
Ne forst his rightful owner to offend;
Ne ever will it breake, ne ever bend:
Wherefore Morddure it rightfully is hight.
In vaine therefore, Pyrochles, should I lend
The same to thee, against his lord to fight;
For sure yt would deceive thy labor and thy
might.'
A while his heavy eylids cover'd have, [wave:
And all his sences drowned in deep sencelesse
'Which those his cruell foes, that stand here-
by,
Making advauntage, to revenge their spight,
Would him disarme and treaten shamefully;
Unworthie usage of redoubted knight.
But you, faire Sir, whose honourable sight
Doth promise hope of helpe and timely grace,
Mote I beseech to succour his sad plight,
And by your powre protect his feeble cace?
First prayse of knighthood is fowle outrage to
deface.'
'Palmer, (said he) 'no knight so rude, I weene,
As to doen outrage to a sleeping ghost;
Ne was there ever noble corage seene,
That in advauntage would his puissance bost:
Honour is least where oddes appeareth most.
May bee, that better reason will aswage
The rash revengers heat. Words, well dispost,
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