And wasted life doe lye in ashes low:

Yet sithens silence lesseneth not my fire,

But, told, it flames; and, hidden, it does glow,

I will revele what ye so much desire.

Ah. Love! lay down thy bow, the whiles I may respyre.

"It was in freshest flowre of youthly yeares,

When corage first does creepe in manly chest,
Then first the cole of kindly heat appeares
To kindle love in every living brest:

But me had warnd old Timons wise behest,
Those creeping flames by reason to subdew,
Before their rage grew to so great unrest,
As miserable lovers use to rew,

Which still wex old in woe, whiles wo stil wexeth new.

"That ydle name of love, and lovers life,

As losse of time, and vertues enimy,

I ever scornd, and joyd to stirre up strife,
In middest of their mournfull Tragedy;

Ay wont to laugh when them I heard to cry,
And blow the fire which them to ashes brent :
Their God himselfe, grievd at my libertie,
Shott many a dart at me with fiers intent;
But I them warded all with wary government.

"But all in vaine: no fort can be so strong,
Ne fleshly brest can armed be so sownd,
But will at last be wonne with battrie long,
Or unawares at disavantage fownd.

Nothing is sure that growes on earthly grownd;
And who most trustes in arme of fleshly might,
And boastes in beauties chaine not to be bownd,

Doth soonest fall in disaventrous fight,

And yeeldes his caytive neck to victours most despight.

"Ensample make of him your haplesse joy,

And of my selfe now mated, as ye see;

Whose prouder vaunt that proud avenging boy
Did soone pluck downe, and curbd my libertee.
For on a day, prickt forth with jollitee

Of looser life and heat of hardiment,

Raunging the forest wide on courser free,

The fields, the floods, the heavens, with one consent,
Did seeme to laugh on me, and favour mine intent.

"Forwearied with my sportes, I did alight
From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me layd,
The verdant gras my couch did goodly dight,
And pillow was my helmett fayre displayd ;

Whiles every sence the humour sweet embayd,
And slombring soft my hart did steale away,
Me seemed, by my side a royall Mayd
Her daintie limbes full softly down did lay:
So fayre a creature yet saw never sunny day.

"Most goodly glee and lovely blandishment
She to me made, and badd me love her deare ;
For dearely sure her love was to me bent,
As, when just time expired, should appeare.
But whether dreames delude, or true it were,
Was never hart so ravisht with delight,
Ne living man like wordes did ever heare,
As she to me delivered all that night;

And at her parting said, She Queene of Faeries hight.

"When I awoke, and found her place devoyd, And nought but pressed gras where she had lyen, I sorrowed all so much as earst I joyd,

And washed all her place with watry eyen.

From that day forth I lov'd that face divyne;
From that day forth I cast in carefull mynd,
To seek her out with labor and long tyne,
And never vowd to rest till her I fynd:

Nyne monethes I seek in vain, yet ni'll that vow unbynd."

Thus as he spake, his visage wexed pale,
And chaunge of hew great passion did bewray;
Yett still he strove to cloke his inward bale,
And hide the smoke that did his fire display,
Till gentle Una thus to him gan say:
"O happy Queene of Faeries! that hast fownd,
Mongst many, one that with his prowesse may
Defend thine honour, and thy foes confownd.

True loves are often sown, but seldom grow on grownd."

"Thine, O! then," said the gentle Redcrosse knight, "Next to that Ladies love, shalbe the place,

O fayrest virgin! full of heavenly light,

Whose wondrous faith, exceeding earthly race,

Was firmest fixt in myne extremest case.

And you, my Lord, the Patrone of my life,

Of that great Queene may well gaine worthie grace,
For onely worthie you through prowes priefe,
Yf living man mote worthie be to be her liefe."

(Stanzas 8-17.)

Now this description is inappropriate to Leicester's character, even as a young man, and at the time when

it was written Leicester and the Queen had been on intimate terms for a period of some thirty years. On the other hand, the words addressed to Prince Arthur by the Redcrosse knight, "And you, my Lord, the Patrone of my life," read in conjunction with the words following, and with similar expressions in the Minor Poems (see Chapter VI.), can only rationally be interpreted as a tribute by the poet to his early patron, who was Leicester. The stanza is difficult to follow, and is an example of one of those ambiguous utterances by which the writer, on certain occasions, partially throws off his disguise. The first lines of it are not addressed to the Prince (as would be natural after the Prince's speech), or to Una (as might be supposed, and as is probably intended to be supposed), but to the Queen, “O fayrest virgin," whose faith, "next to that Ladies love," namely the love of Una, or Truth, the Redcrosse knight seems himself to claim, as having been "firmest fixt in myne extremest case." Having in this ingenious way expressed his own feelings, the writer closes the stanza with an address to his "patron," with the hope that the latter may gain "worthye grace" of the Sovereign, of whose love he is the worthiest. This stanza appears to me in itself to justify the view which I have expressed that the Redcrosse knight is intended to represent the author. The passage as a whole, however, indicates that in Prince Arthur also the author sees himself, under another aspect, and this is the view of the character, in its special application, which I wish to advocate.

First as to the expressions of love in this passage. I have in several places drawn attention to the use by Spenser of the language of love in addressing Queen Elizabeth, and there is a passage in one of Lilly's plays, Endimion, which is analogous and illuminating on this subject. It is as follows:

Cynth. Was there such a time when as for my love thou didst vow thy selfe to death, and in respect of it loth'd thy life? speake Endimion, I will not revenge it with hate.

End. The time was madame, and is, and ever shall be, that

I honoured your highnesse above all the world; but to stretch it so farre as to call it love, I never durst. There hath none pleased mine eye but Cynthia, none delighted mine eares but Cynthia, none possessed my heart but Cynthia. I have forsaken all other fortunes to follow Cynthia, and heere I stand readie to die if it please Cynthia. Such a difference hath the gods set betweene our states, that all must be dutie, loyaltie, and reverence, nothing (without it vouchsafe your highnesse) be termed love. My unspotted thoughts, my languishing bodie, my discontented life, let them obtaine by princely favour, that which to challenge they must not presume, onely wishing of impossibilities: with imagination of which, I will spend my spirits, and to my selfe that no creature may heare, softly call it love. And if any urge to utter what I whisper, then will I name it honour. From this sweet contemplation if I be not driven, I shall live of all men the most content, taking more pleasure in mine aged thoughts, then ever I did in my youthfull actions.

Cynth. Endimion, this honorable respect of thine, shall be christned love in thee, and my reward for it, favour. Persever Endimion in loving mee, and I account more strength in a true heart, then in a walled citie. I have laboured to win all, and studie to keep such as I have wonne; but those that neither my favour can move to continue constant, nor my offered benefits get to be faithfull, the gods shall either reduce to truth, or revenge their trecheries with justice. Endimion continue as thou hast begun, and thou shalt find that Cynthia shineth not on thee in vaine.

End. Your highnesse hath blessed me, and your words have againe restored my youth: me thinks I feele my joynts strong, and these mouldy haires to molt, and all by your vertue Cynthia, into whose hands the ballance that weighteth time and fortune are committed. (v. 3.)

The language used here is in all respects similar to that of the "Farewell" in the Princely Pleasures attributed to Gascoigne (see Chapter IX.). There is the same unsophisticated enthusiasm and sententiousness, and I find it impossible to doubt that the two pieces are by the same hand, and that they are the writing of a youth. No adult person could write in such a strain.1

1 Lilly (or Lyly) is very different as a writer from what might be supposed from the accounts of him in some books. He shows a mind as philosophical as that of Bacon, though immature; he wrote some lyrics of the same quality as those of Shakespeare; and for "wit" and literary equipment he is unapproached among the writers of his time. Also he introduced into England

Next as to the description of Prince Arthur, which, on his first appearance with his squire, Timias (I. vii.), is very significant. His accoutrements suggest splendour and power in the highest degree. Thus, of his helmet:

His haughtie Helmet, horrid all with gold,

Both glorious brightnesse and great terrour bredd:
For all the crest a Dragon did enfold

With greedie pawes, and over all did spredd
His golden winges: his dreadfull hideous hedd,
Close couched on the bever, seemd to throw
From flaming mouth bright sparckles fiery redd,
That suddeine horrour to faint hartes did show;
And scaly tayle was stretcht adowne his back full low.

Upon the top of all his loftie crest,

A bounch of heares discolourd diversly,

With sprincled pearle and gold full richly drest,
Did shake, and seemd to daunce for jollity,

Like to an almond tree ymounted hye

On top of greene Selinis all alone,

With blossoms brave bedecked daintily;

Whose tender locks do tremble every one

At everie little breath that under heaven is blowne.

(Stanzas 31 and 32.)

Still more remarkable is the account of his shield:

His warlike shield all closely cover'd was,
Ne might of mortall eye be ever seene;
Not made of steele, nor of enduring bras,
Such earthly mettals soon consumed beene,
But all of Diamond perfect pure and cleene

It framed was, one massy entire mould,

Hewen out of Adamant rocke with engines keene,

That point of speare it never percen could,

Ne dint of direfull sword divide the substance would.

The same to wight he never wont disclose,
But whenas monsters huge he would dismay,
Or daunt unequall armies of his foes,

Or when the flying heavens he would affray;
For so exceeding shone his glistring ray,

a new style of speech which was known by the name of his first book; yet he never wrote a line after about 1590, when he is supposed to have been thirty-six, though he is said to have lived for sixteen years after that date. I have had occasion to note the same extraordinary phenomenon in the cases of Gabriel Harvey, Kirke, Webbe, Laneham, and Meres.