And him that reign'd into his room1 thrust down; 1 Place. And, whom I lust,2 do heap with glory and renown?' Please.
'All otherwise,' said he, 'I riches read,3
And deem them root of all disquietness;
First got with guile, and then preserv'd with dread,
And after spent with pride and lavishness,
Leaving behind them grief and heaviness:
Infinite mischiefs of them do arise;
Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitterness,
Outrageous wrong and hellish covetise;
That noble heart, as great dishonour, doth despise.
'Ne thine be kingdoms, ne the sceptres thine;
But realms and rulers thou dost both confound,
And loyal truth to treason dost incline:
Witness the guiltless blood pour'd oft on ground;
The crowned often slain; the slayer crown'd;
The sacred diadem in pieces rent;
And purple robe gored with many a wound;
Castles surpris'd; great cities sack'd and brent:5
So mak'st thou kings, and gainest wrongful govern-
'Long were to tell the troublous storms that toss
The private state, and make the life unsweet:
Who swelling sails in Caspian sea doth cross,
And in frail wood on Adrian gulf doth fleet,6
Doth not, I ween, so many evils meet.'
[said, Then Mammon waxing wroth; And why then,' 'Are mortal men so fond and undiscreet So evil thing to seek unto their aid;
And, having not, complain: and, having it, upbraid?'
'Indeed,' quoth he, through foul intemperance,
Frail men are oft captív'd to covetise:
But would they think with how small allowance
Untroubled nature doth herself suffice,
Such superfluities they would despise,
Which with sad cares impeach1 our native joys.
At the well-head the purest streams arise;
But mucky 2 filth his branching arms annoys,
And with uncomely weeds the gentle wave accloys.
"The antique world, in his first flow'ring youth,
Found no defect in his Creator's grace;
But with glad thanks, and unreproved truth,
The gifts of sovereign bounty did embrace:
Like angels' life was then men's happy case:
But later ages' pride, like corn-fed steed,
Abus'd her plenty and fat-swoln increase
To all licentious lust, and gan
exceed
The measure of her mean 5 and natural first need.
'Then gan a cursed hand the quiet womb
Of his great grandmother with steel to wound,
And the hid treasures in her sacred tomb
With sacrilege to dig: therein he found
Fountains of gold and silver to abound,
Of which the matter of his huge desire
And pompous pride eftsoons he did compound;
Then Avarice gan through his veins inspire
His greedy flames, and kindled life-devouring fire.'
'Son,' said he then, 'let be thy bitter scorn,
And leave the rudeness of that antique age
To them, that liv'd therein in state forlorn.
Thou, that dost live in later times, must wage 1
Thy works for wealth, and life for gold engage.
If then thee list my offer'd grace to use,
Take what thou please of all this surplusage; 2
If thee list not, leave have thou to refuse:
But thing refused do not afterward accuse.'
'Me list not,' said the Elfin Knight, 'receive Thing offer'd, till I know it well be got; Ne wote3 I but thou didst these goods bereave From rightful owner by unrighteous lot, Or that blood-guiltiness or guile them blot.' 'Perdy,' quoth he, 'yet never eye did view, Ne 5 tongue did tell, ne hand these handled not; But safe I have them kept in secret mew 6 From heaven's sight and power of all which them pursue.'
'What secret place,' quoth he, 'can safely hold So huge a mass, and hide from heaven's eye?
Or where hast thou thy wonne,7 that so much gold DwellThou canst preserve from wrong and robbery?' 'Come thou,' quoth he, 'and see.' So by and by Through that thick covert he him led, and found A darksome way, which no man could descry, That deep descended through the hollow ground, And was with dread and horror compassed around.
At length they came into a larger space,
That stretch'd itself into an ample plain;
Through which a beaten broad highway did trace,
That straight did lead to Pluto's grisly reign:
? One of the Harpies. 3 Woe.
• Riven.
By that way's side there sate infernal Pain,
And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife;
The one in hand an iron whip did strain,
The other brandished a bloody knife;
And both did gnash their teeth, and both did threaten
On th' other side in one consórt 1 there sate
Cruel Revenge, and rancorous Despite,
Disloyal Treason, and heart-burning Hate;
But gnawing Jealousy, out of their sight
Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bite;
And trembling Fear still to and fro did fly,
And found no place where safe he shroud him
Lamenting Sorrow did in darkness lie; [might:
And Shame his ugly face did hide from living eye.
And over them sad Horror with grim hue
Did always soar, beating his iron wings;
And after him owls and night-ravens flew,
The hateful messengers of heavy things,
Of death and dolour telling sad tidíngs
Whiles sad Celeno,2 sitting on a clift,
A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings,
That heart of flint asunder could have rift; 4
Which having ended after him she flieth swift.
All these before the gates of Pluto lay;
By whom they passing spake unto them nought.
But th' Elfin Knight with wonder all the way
Did feed his eyes, and fill'd his inner thought.
At last him to a little door he brought,
That to the gate of hell, which gaped wide,
Was next adjoining, ne 5 them parted ought:
Betwixt them both was but a little stride, [divide. That did the House of Riches from hell-mouth
Before the door sat self-consuming Care,
Day and night keeping wary watch and ward,
For fear lest Force or Fraud should unaware
Break in, and spoil the treasure there in guard:
Ne1 would he suffer Sleep once thitherward
Approach, albe 2 his drowsy den were next;
For next to Death is Sleep to be compar'd;
Therefore his house is unto his annext : [betwext.
Here Sleep, there Riches, and Hell-gate them both
So soon as Mammon there arriv'd, the door
To him did open and afforded way:
Him followed eke Sir Guyon evermore,
Ne darkness him ne danger might dismay.
Soon as he enter'd was, the door straightway
Did shut, and from behind it forth there leapt
An ugly fiend, more foul than dismal day;
The which with monstrous stalk behind him stept,
And ever as he went due watch upon him kept.
Well hoped he, ere long that hardy guest,
If ever covetous hand, or lustful eye,
Or lips he laid on thing that lik'd him best,
Or ever sleep his eye-strings did untie,
Should be his prey: and therefore still on high
He over him did hold his cruel claws,
Threat'ning with greedy gripe to do him die,
And rend in pieces with his ravenous paws,
If ever he transgress'd the fatal Stygian laws.
|