And smelling sweete, but there it might be fownd To bud out faire, and her sweete smels throwe all arownd.
No tree, whose braunches did not bravely spring;
No braunch, whereon a fine bird did not sitt;
No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetly sing;
No song, but did containe a lovely ditt.
Trees, braunches, birds, and songs, were framed fitt
For to allure fraile mind to carelesse ease.
Carelesse the man soone woxe, and his weake witt
Was overcome of thing that did him please :
So pleased did his wrathfull purpose faire appease.
Thus when shee had his eyes and sences fed
With false delights, and fild with pleasures vayn,
Into a shady dale she soft him led,
And layd him downe upon a grassy playn;
And her sweete selfe without dread or disdayn
She sett beside, laying his head disarmd
In her loose lap, it softly to sustayn,
Where soone he slumbered fearing not be harmd: The whiles with a love lay she thus him sweetly charmd:
"Behold, O man, that toilesome paines doest take, The flowrs, the fields, and all that pleasaunt growes, How they themselves doe thine ensample make, Whiles nothing envious Nature them forth throwes Out of her fruitfull lap; how, no man knowes, They spring, they hud, they blossome fresh and faire, And decke the world with their rich pompous showes;
Yet no man for them taketh paines or care,
Yet no man to them can his carefull paines compare.
"The lilly, lady of the flowring field,
The flowre-deluce, her lovely paramoure,
Bid thee to them thy fruitlesse labors yield,
And soone leave off this toylsome weary stoure:
Loe! loe, how brave she decks her bounteous boure,
With silkin curtens and gold coverletts,
Therein to shrowd her sumptuous belamoure!
Yet neither spinnes nor cards, ne cares nor fretts,
But to her mother nature all her care she letts.
"Why then doest thou, O man, that of them all
Art lord, and eke of nature soveraine,
Wilfully make thyselfe a wretched thrall,
And waste thy ioyous howres in needlesse paine,
Seeking for daunger and adventures vaine?
What bootes its al to have and nothing use?
Who shall him rew that swimming in the maine
Will die for thirst, and water doth refuse?
Refuse such fruitlesse toile, and present pleasures
chuse."
By this she had him lulled fast asleepe,
That of no worldly thing he care did take :
Then she with liquors strong his eies did steepe,
That nothing should him hastily awake.
So she him lefte, and did herselfe betake
Unto her boat again, with which she clefte
The slouthfull wave of that great griesy lake:
Soone she that island far behind her lefte,
And now is come to that same place where firs she wefte.
By this time was the worthy Guyon brought
Unto the other side of that wide strond
Where she was rowing, and for passage sought :
Him needed not long call; shee soone to hond
Her ferry brought, where him she byding fond
With his sad guide: himselfe she tooke aboord,
But the blacke palmer suffred still to stond,
Ne would for price or prayers once afford
To ferry that old man over the perlous foord.
Guyon was loath to leave his guide behind,
Yet being entred might not backe retyre;
For the flitt barke, obaying to her mind,
Forth launched quickly as she did desire,
Ne gave him leave to bid that aged sire
Adieu, but nimbly ran her wonted course
Through the dull billowes thicke as troubled mire,
Whom nether wind out of their seat could forse,
Nor timely tides did drive out of their sluggish
And by the way, as war her wonted guize,
Her merry fitt she freshly gan to reare,
And did of ioy and iollity devize,
Herselfe to cherish, and her guest to cheare.
The knight was courteous, and did forbeare
Her honest merth and pleasaunce to partake;
But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and geare,
And passe the bonds of modest merimake,
Her dalliaunce he despis'd and follies did forsake.
Yet she still followed her former style,
And said, and did, all that mote him delight,
Till they arrived in that pleasaunt ile,
Where sleeping late she lefte her other knight.
But, whenas Guyon of that land had sight,
He wist himselfe amisse, and angry said;
"Ah! dame, perdy ye have not doen me right,
Thus to mislead mee, whiles I you obaid:
Me litle needed from my right way to have straid.”
"Faire sir," quoth she, "be not displeasd at all;
Who fares on sea may not command his way,
Ne wind and weather at his pleasure call :
The sea is wide, and easy for to stray;
The wind unstable, and doth never stay.
But here a while ye may in safety rest,
Till season serve new passage to assay:
Better safe port then be in seas distrest."
Therewith she laught, and did her earnest end in
iest.
But he, halfe discontent, mote nathëlesse
Himselfe appease, and issewd forth on shore:
The ioys whereof and happy fruitfulnesse,
Such as he saw, she gan him lay before,
And all, though pleasaunt, yet she made much
The fields did laugh, the flowres did freshly spring,
The trees did bud, and early blossomes bore;
And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing,
And told that gardins pleasures in the caroling.
And she, more sweete then any bird on bough,
Would oftentimes emongst them beare a part,
And strive to passe (as she could well enough)
Their native musicke by her skilful art:
So did she all, that might his constant hart
Withdraw from thought of warlike enterprize,
And drowne in dissolute delights apart,
Where noise of armes, or view of martiall guize, Might not revive desire of knightly exercise :
But he was wise, and wary of her will,
And ever held his hand upon his hart;
Yet would not seeme so rude, and thewed ill,
As to despise so curteus seeming part
That gentle lady did to him impart :
But, fairly tempring, fond desire subdewd,
And ever her desired to depart.
She list not heare, but her disports poursewd,
And ever bad him stay till time the tide renewd.
And now by this Cymochles howre was spent,
That he awoke out of his ydle dreme;
And, shaking off his drowsy dreriment,
Gan him avize, howe ill did him beseme
In slouthfull sleepe his molten hart to steme,
And quench the brond of his conceived yre.
Tho up he started, stird with shame extreme,
Ne staied for his damsell to inquire,
But marched to the strond, there passage to require.
And in the way he with sir Guyon mett,
Accompanyde with Phædria the faire :
Eftsoones he gan to rage, and inly frett,
Crying; "Let be that lady debonaire,
Thou recreaunt knight, and soone thyselfe prepaire
To batteile, if thou meane her love to gayn.
Loe! loe already how the fowles in aire
Doe flocke, awaiting shortly to obtayn
Thy carcas for their pray, the guerdon of thy payn.”
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