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

all worlds felicitie I hate.
Much was I troubled in my heavie spright, 575 At sight of these sad
spectacles forepast, That all my senses were bereaved quight, And I in
minde remained sore agast, Distraught twixt feare and pitie; when at
last I heard a voyce which loudly to me called, 580 That with the
suddein shrill I was appalled.
"Behold," said it, "and by ensample see, That all is vanitie and griefe of
minde, Ne other comfort in this world can be, But hope of heaven, and
heart to God inclinde; 585 For all the rest must needs be left behinde."
With that it bad me to the other side To cast mine eye, where other
sights I spide.
I.
Upon that famous rivers further shore, There stood a snowie Swan, of
heavenly hiew 590 And gentle kinde as ever fowle afore; A fairer one
in all 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 worldës 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