The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, Volume 5 | Page 8

the goodlie criew Of white Strimonian brood might no man view: There he most sweetly sung the prophecie Of his owne death in dolefull elegie. 595
At last, when all his mourning melodie He ended had, that both the shores resounded, Feeling the fit that him forewarnd to die, With loftie flight above the earth he bounded, And out of sight to highest heaven mounted, 600 Where now he is become an heavenly signe; There now the ioy is his, here sorrow mine.
II.
Whilest thus I looked, loe! adowne the lee* I sawe an Harpe, stroong all with silver twyne, And made of golde and costlie yvorie, 605 Swimming, that whilome seemed to have been The harpe on which Dan Orpheus was seene Wylde beasts and forrests after him to lead, But was th'harpe of Philisides** now dead. [* _Lee_, surface of the stream.] [** _Phili-sid-es_, Sir Philip Sidney]
At length out of the river it was reard, 610 And borne above the cloudes to be divin'd, Whilst all the way most heavenly noyse was heard Of the strings, stirred with the warbling wind, That wrought both ioy and sorrow in my mind: So now in heaven a signe it doth appeare, 615 The Harpe well knowne beside the Northern Beare.
III.
Soone after this I saw on th'other side A curious Coffer made of heben* wood, That in it did most precious treasure hide, Exceeding all this baser world?s good: 620 Yet through the overflowing of the flood It almost drowned was and done to nought, That sight thereof much griev'd my pensive thought. [* _Heben_, ebony.]
At length, when most in perill it was brought, Two angels, downe descending with swift flight, 625 Out of the swelling streame it lightly caught, And twixt their blessed armes it carried quight Above the reach of anie living sight: So now it is transform'd into that starre, In which all heavenly treasures locked are. 630
IV.
Looking aside I saw a stately Bed, Adorned all with costly cloth of gold, That might for anie princes couche be red*, And deckt with daintie flowres, as if it shold Be for some bride, her ioyous night to hold: 635 Therein a goodly virgine sleeping lay; A fairer wight saw never summers day. [* _Red_, taken.]
I heard a voyce that called farre away, And her awaking bad her quickly dight, For lo! her bridegrome was in readie ray 640 To come to her, and seeke her loves delight: With that she started up with cherefull sight, When suddeinly both bed and all was gone, And I in languor left there all alone.
V.
Still as I gazed, I beheld where stood 645 A Knight all arm'd, upon a winged steed, The same that was bred of Medusaes blood, On which Dan Perseus, borne of heavenly seed, The faire Andromeda from perill freed: Full mortally this knight ywounded was, 650 That streames of blood foorth flowed on the gras.
Yet was he deckt (small ioy to him, alas!) With manie garlands for his victories, And with rich spoyles, which late he did purchas Through brave atcheivements from his enemies: 655 Fainting at last through long infirmities, He smote his steed, that straight to heaven him bore, And left me here his losse for to deplore.
VI.
Lastly, I saw an Arke of purest golde Upon a brazen pillour standing hie, 660 Which th'ashes seem'd of some great prince to hold, Enclosde therein for endles memorie Of him whom all the world did glorifie: Seemed the heavens with the earth did disagree, Whether should of those ashes keeper bee. 665
At last me seem'd wing-footed Mercurie, From heaven descending to appease their strife, The arke did beare with him above the skie, And to those ashes gave a second life, To live in heaven, where happines is rife: 670 At which the earth did grieve exceedingly, And I for dole was almost like to die.
_L'Envoy._
Immortall spirite of Philisides, Which now art made the heavens ornament, That whilome wast the world?s chiefst riches. 675 Give leave to him that lov'de thee to lament His losse by lacke of thee to heaven hent*, And with last duties of this broken verse, Broken with sighes, to decke thy sable herse! [* _Hent_, taken away.]
And ye, faire Ladie! th'honor of your daies 680 And glorie of the world, your high thoughts scorne, Vouchsafe this moniment of his last praise With some few silver dropping teares t'adorne; And as ye be of heavenlie off-spring borne, So unto heaven let your high minde aspire, 685 And loath this drosse of sinfull worlds desire.
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FOOTNOTES:
Ver. 8.--_Verlame._ Veralam, or Verulamium, was a British and Roman town, near the present city of St. Alban's in Hertfordshire. Some remains of its walls are still perceptible. H.
Ver. 64.--_Th'Assyrian Lyonesse._ These types of nations are taken from the seventh