Book IV. The Legend of Cambel and Triamond. Canto III. The Faerie Queene. Edmund Spenser. 1908. The Complete Poetical Works

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Edmund Spenser (1552?–1599). The Complete Poetical Works. 1908.

The Faerie Queene

Book IV. The Legend of Cambel and Triamond
Canto III

	The battell twixt three brethren with
	Cambell for Canacee:
	Cambina with true friendships bond
	Doth their long strife agree.

O WHY doe wretched men so much desire

To draw their dayes unto the utmost date,

And doe not rather wish them soone expire,

Knowing the miserie of their estate,

And thousand perills which them still awate,

Tossing them like a boate amid the mayne,

That every houre they knocke at Deathes gate?

And he that happie seemes and least in payne,

Yet is as nigh his end as he that most doth playne.

Therefore this Fay I hold but fond and vaine,

The which, in seeking for her children three

Long life, thereby did more prolong their paine.

Yet whilest they lived none did ever see

More happie creatures then they seem’d to bee,

Nor more ennobled for their courtesie,

That made them dearely lov’d of each degree,

Ne more renowmed for their chevalrie,

That made them dreaded much of all men farre and nie.

III

These three that hardie chalenge tooke in hand,

For Canacee with Cambell for to fight:

The day was set, that all might understand,

And pledges pawnd the same to keepe a right:

That day, the dreddest day that living wight

Did ever see upon this world to shine,

So soone as heavens window shewed light,

These warlike champions, all in armour shine,

Assembled were in field, the chalenge to define.

The field with listes was all about enclos’d,

To barre the prease of people farre away;

And at th’ one side sixe judges were dispos’d,

To view and deeme the deedes of armes that day;

And on the other side, in fresh aray,

Fayre Canacee upon a stately stage

Was set, to see the fortune of that fray,

And to be seene, as his most worthie wage

That could her purchase with his lives adventur’d gage.

Then entred Cambell first into the list,

With stately steps and fearelesse countenance,

As if the conquest his he surely wist.

Soone after did the brethren three advance,

In brave aray and goodly amenance,

With scutchins gilt and banners broad displayd;

And marching thrise in warlike ordinance,

Thrise lowted lowly to the noble mayd,

The whiles shril trompets and loud clarions sweetly playd.

Which doen, the doughty chalenger came forth,

All arm’d to point, his chalenge to abet:

Gainst whom Sir Priamond, with equall worth

And equall armes, himselfe did forward set.

A trompet blew; they both together met

With dreadfull force and furious intent,

Carelesse of perill in their fiers affret,

As if that life to losse they had forelent,

And cared not to spare that should be shortly spent.

VII

Right practicke was Sir Priamond in fight,

And throughly skild in use of shield and speare;

Ne lesse approved was Cambelloes might,

Ne lesse his skill in weapons did appeare,

That hard it was to weene which harder were.

Full many mightie strokes on either side

Were sent, that seemed death in them to beare,

But they were both so watchfull and well eyde,

That they avoyded were, and vainely by did slyde.

VIII

Yet one of many was so strongly bent

By Priamond, that with unluckie glaunce

Through Cambels shoulder it unwarely went,

That forced him his shield to disadvaunce:

Much was he grieved with that gracelesse chaunce,

Yet from the wound no drop of bloud there fell,

But wondrous paine, that did the more enhaunce

His haughtie courage to advengement fell:

Smart daunts not mighty harts, but makes them more to swell.

With that, his poynant speare he fierce aventred,

With doubled force, close underneath his shield,

That through the mayles into his thigh it entred,

And there arresting, readie way did yield

For bloud to gush forth on the grassie field;

That he for paine himselfe not right upreare,

But too and fro in great amazement reel’d,

Like an old oke, whose pith and sap is seare,

At puffe of every storme doth stagger here and there.

Whom so dismayd when Cambell had espide,

Againe he drove at him with double might,

That nought mote stay the steele, till in his side

The mortall point most cruelly empight:

Where fast infixed, whilest he sought by slight

It forth to wrest, the staffe a sunder brake,

And left the head behind: with which despight

He all enrag’d, his shivering speare did shake,

And charging him a fresh, thus felly him bespake:

‘Lo! faitour, there thy meede unto thee take,

The meede of thy mischalenge and abet:

Not for thine owne, but for thy sisters sake,

Have I thus long thy life unto thee let:

But to forbeare doth not forgive the det.’

The wicked weapon heard his wrathfull vow,

And passing forth with furious affret,

Pierst through his bever quite into his brow,

That with the force it backward forced him to bow.

XII

Therewith a sunder in the midst it brast,

100

And in his hand nought but the troncheon left;

The other halfe behind yet sticking fast

Out of his headpeece Cambell fiercely reft,

And with such furie backe at him it heft,

That, making way unto his dearest life,

105

His weasand pipe it through his gorget cleft:

Thence streames of purple bloud issuing rife

Let forth his wearie ghost, and made an end of strife.

XIII

His wearie ghost, assoyld from fleshly band,

Did not, as others wont, directly fly

110

Unto her rest in Plutoes griesly land,

Ne into ayre did vanish presently,

Ne chaunged was into a starre in sky:

But through traduction was eftsoones derived,

Like as his mother prayd the Destinie,

115

Into his other brethren that survived,

In whom he liv’d a new, of former life deprived.

XIV

Whom when on ground his brother next beheld,

Though sad and sorie for so heavy sight,

Yet leave unto his sorrow did not yeeld;

120

But rather stird to vengeance and despight,

Through secret feeling of his generous spright,

Rusht fiercely forth, the battell to renew,

As in reversion of his brothers right;

And chalenging the virgin as his dew.

125

His foe was soone addrest: the trompets freshly blew.

With that they both together fiercely met,

As if that each ment other to devoure;

And with their axes both so sorely bet,

That neither plate nor mayle, whereas their powre

130

They felt, could once sustaine the hideous stowre,

But rived were like rotten wood a sunder,

Whilest through their rifts the ruddie bloud did showre,

And fire did flash, like lightning after thunder,

That fild the lookers on attonce with ruth and wonder.

135

XVI

As when two tygers, prickt with hungers rage,

Have by good fortune found some beasts fresh spoyle,

On which they weene their famine to asswage,

And gaine a feastfull guerdon of their toyle;

Both falling out doe stirre up strifefull broyle,

140

And cruell battell twixt themselves doe make,

Whiles neither lets the other touch the soyle,

But either sdeignes with other to partake:

So cruelly these knights strove for that ladies sake.

XVII

Full many strokes, that mortally were ment,

145

The whiles were enterchaunged twixt them two;

Yet they were all with so good wariment

Or warded, or avoyded and let goe,

That still the life stood fearelesse of her foe:

Till Diamond, disdeigning long delay

150

Of doubtfull fortune wavering to and fro,

Resolv’d to end it one or other way;

And heav’d his murdrous axe at him with mighty sway.

XVIII

The dreadfull stroke, in case it had arrived

Where it was ment, (so deadly it was ment)

155

The soule had sure out of his bodie rived,

And stinted all the strife incontinent.

But Cambels fate that fortune did prevent:

For seeing it at hand, he swarv’d asyde,

And so gave way unto his fell intent:

160

Who, missing of the marke which he had eyde,

Was with the force nigh feld whilst his right foot did slyde.

XIX

As when a vulture greedie of his pray,

Through hunger long, that hart to him doth lend,

Strikes at an heron with all his bodies sway,

165

That from his force seemes nought may it defend;

The warie fowle, that spies him toward bend

His dreadfull souse, avoydes it, shunning light,

And maketh him his wing in vaine to spend;

That with the weight of his owne weeldlesse might,

170

He falleth nigh to ground, and scarse recovereth flight.

Which faire adventure when Cambello spide,

Full lightly, ere himselfe he could recower,

From daungers dread to ward his naked side,

He can let drive at him with all his power,

175

And with his axe him smote in evill hower,

That from his shoulders quite his head he reft:

The headlesse tronke, as heedlesse of that stower,

Stood still a while, and his fast footing kept,

Till, feeling life to fayle, it fell, and deadly slept.

180

XXI

They which that piteous spectacle beheld

Were much amaz’d the headlesse tronke to see

Stand up so long, and weapon vaine to weld,

Unweeting of the Fates divine decree

For lifes succession in those brethren three.

185

For notwithstanding that one soule was reft,

Yet, had the bodie not dismembred bee,

It would have lived, and revived eft;

But finding no fit seat, the lifelesse corse it left.

XXII

It left; but that same soule which therein dwelt,

190

Streight entring into Triamond, him fild

With double life and griefe; which when he felt,

As one whose inner parts had bene ythrild

With point of steele, that close his hartbloud spild,

He lightly lept out of his place of rest,

195

And rushing forth into the emptie field,

Against Cambello fiercely him addrest;

Who him affronting soone to fight was readie prest.

XXIII

Well mote ye wonder how that noble knight,

After he had so often wounded beene,

200

Could stand on foot now to renew the fight.

But had ye then him forth advauncing seene,

Some newborne wight ye would him surely weene,

So fresh he seemed and so fierce in sight;

Like as a snake, whom wearie winters teene

205

Hath worne to nought, now feeling sommers might,

Casts off his ragged skin and freshly doth him dight.

XXIV

All was through vertue of the ring he wore,

The which not onely did not from him let

One drop of bloud to fall, but did restore

210

His weakned powers, and dulled spirits whet,

Through working of the stone therein yset.

Else how could one of equall might with most,

Against so many no lesse mightie met,

Once thinke to match three such on equall cost,

215

Three such as able were to match a puissant host?

XXV

Yet nought thereof was Triamond adredde,

Ne desperate of glorious victorie,

But sharpely him assayld, and sore bestedde,

With heapes of strokes, which he at him let flie

220

As thicke as hayle forth poured from the skie:

He stroke, he soust, he foynd, he hewd, he lasht,

And did his yron brond so fast applie,

That from the same the fierie sparkles flasht,

As fast as water-sprinkles gainst a rocke are dasht.

225

XXVI

Much was Cambello daunted with his blowes,

So thicke they fell, and forcibly were sent,

That he was forst from daunger of the throwes

Backe to retire, and somewhat to relent,

Till th’ heat of his fierce furie he had spent:

230

Which when for want of breath gan to abate,

He then afresh with new encouragement

Did him assayle, and mightily amate,

As fast as forward erst, now backward to retrate.

XXVII

Like as the tide, that comes fro th’ ocean mayne,

235

Flowes up the Shenan with contrarie forse,

And overruling him in his owne rayne,

Drives backe the current of his kindly course,

And makes it seeme to have some other sourse:

But when the floud is spent, then backe againe,

240

His borrowed waters forst to redisbourse,

He sends the sea his owne with double gaine,

And tribute eke withall, as to his soveraine.

XXVIII

Thus did the battell varie to and fro,

With diverse fortune doubtfull to be deemed:

245

Now this the better had, now had his fo;

Then he halfe vanquisht, then the other seemed;

Yet victors both them selves alwayes esteemed.

And all the while the disentrayled blood

Adowne their sides like litle rivers stremed,

250

That with the wasting of his vitall flood

Sir Triamond at last full faint and feeble stood.

XXIX

But Cambell still more strong and greater grew,

Ne felt his blood to wast, ne powres emperisht,

Through that rings vertue, that with vigour new,

255

Still when as he enfeebled was, him cherisht,

And all his wounds and all his bruses guarisht:

Like as a withered tree, through husbands toyle,

Is often seene full freshly to have florisht,

And fruitfull seene full freshly to have florisht,

260

As fresh as when it first was planted in the soyle.

XXX

Through which advantage, in his strength he rose,

And smote the other with so wondrous might,

That through the seame which did his hauberk close

Into his throate and life it pierced quight,

265

That downe he fell as dead in all mens sight:

Yet dead he was not, yet he sure did die,

As all men do that lose the living spright:

So did one soule out of his bodie flie

Unto her native home from mortall miserie.

270

XXXI

But nathelesse whilst all the lookers on

Him dead behight, as he to all appeard,

All unawares he started up anon,

As one that had out of a dreame bene reard,

And fresh assayld his foe; who halfe affeard

275

Of th’ uncouth sight, as he some ghost had seene,

Stood still amaz’d, holding his idle sweard;

Till, having often by him stricken beene,

He forced was to strike, and save him selfe from teene.

XXXII

Yet from thenceforth more warily he fought,

280

As one in feare the Stygian gods t’ offend,

Ne followd on so fast, but rather sought

Him selfe to save, and daunger to defend,

Then life and labour both in vaine to spend.

Which Triamond perceiving, weened sure

285

He gan to faint toward the battels end,

And that he should not long on foote endure,

A signe which did to him the victorie assure.

XXXIII

Whereof full blith, eftsoones his mightie hand

He heav’d on high, in mind with that same blow

290

To make an end of all that did withstand:

Which Cambell seeing come, was nothing slow

Him selfe to save from that so deadly throw;

And at that instant reaching forth his sweard,

Close underneath his shield, that scarce did show,

295

Stroke him, as he his hand to strike upreard,

In th’ arm-pit full, that through both sides the wound appeard.

XXXIV

Yet still that direfull stroke kept on his way,

And falling heavie on Cambelloes crest,

Strooke him so hugely that in swowne he lay,

300

And in his head an hideous wound imprest:

And sure, had it not happily found rest

Upon the brim of his brode plated shield,

It would have cleft his braine downe to his brest.

So both at once fell dead upon the field,

305

And each to other seemd the victorie to yield.

XXXV

Which when as all the lookers on beheld,

They weened sure the warre was at an end,

And judges rose, and marshals of the field

Broke up the listes, their armes away to rend;

310

And Canacee gan wayle her dearest frend.

All suddenly they both upstarted light,

The one out of the swownd which him did blend,

The other breathing now another spright,

And fiercely each assayling, gan afresh to fight.

315

XXXVI

Long while they then continued in that wize,

As if but then the battell had begonne:

Strokes, wounds, wards, weapons, all they did despise,

Ne either car’d to ward, or perill shonne,

Desirous both to have the battell donne;

320

Ne either cared life to save or spill,

Ne which of them did winne, ne which were wonne.

So wearie both of fighting had their fill,

That life it selfe seemd loathsome, and long safetie ill.

XXXVII

Whilst thus the case in doubtfull ballance hong,

325

Unsure to whether side it would incline,

And all mens eyes and hearts, which there among

Stood gazing, filled were with rufull tine,

And secret feare to see their fatall fine,

All suddenly they heard a troublous noyes,

330

That seemd some perilous tumult to desine,

Confusd with womens cries and shouts of boyes,

Such as the troubled theaters oftimes annoyes.

XXXVIII

Thereat the champions both stood still a space,

To weeten what that sudden clamour ment;

335

Lo! where they spyde with speedie whirling pace

One in a charet of straunge furniment

Towards them driving like a storme out sent.

The charet decked was in wondrous wize

With gold and many a gorgeous ornament,

340

After the Persian Monarks antique guize,

Such as the maker selfe could best by art devize.

XXXIX

And drawne it was (that wonder is to tell)

Of two grim lyons, taken from the wood,

In which their powre all others did excell;

345

Now made forget their former cruell mood,

T’ obey their riders hest, as seemed good.

And therein sate a ladie passing faire

And bright, that seemed borne of angels brood,

And with her beautie bountie did compare,

350

Whether of them in her should have the greater share.

Thereto she learned was in magicke leare,

And all the artes that subtill wits discover,

Having therein bene trained many a yeare,

And well instructed by the Fay her mother,

355

That in the same she farre exceld all other.

Who, understanding by her mightie art

Of th’ evill plight in which her dearest brother

Now stood, came forth in hast to take his part,

And pacifie the strife which causd so deadly smart.

360

XLI

And as she passed through th’ unruly preace

Of people thronging thicke her to behold,

Her angrie teame, breaking their bonds of peace,

Great heapes of them, like sheepe in narrow fold,

For hast did over-runne, in dust enrould;

365

That, thorough rude confusion of the rout,

Some fearing shriekt, some being harmed hould,

Some laught for sport, some did for wonder shout,

And some, that would seeme wise, their wonder turnd to dout.

XLII

In her right hand a rod of peace shee bore,

370

About the which two serpents weren wound,

Entrayled mutually in lovely lore,

And by the tailes together firmely bound,

And both were with one olive garland crownd,

Like to the rod which Maias sonne doth wield,

375

Wherewith the hellish fiends he doth confound.

And in her other hand a cup she hild,

The which was with Nepenthe to the brim upfild.

XLIII

Nepenthe is a drinck of soverayne grace,

Devized by the gods, for to asswage

380

Harts grief, and bitter gall away to chace,

Which stirs up anguish and contentious rage:

In stead thereof sweet peace and quietage

It doth establish in the troubled mynd.

Few men, but such as sober are and sage,

385

Are by the gods to drinck thereof assynd;

But such as drinck, eternall happinesse do fynd.

XLIV

Such famous men, such worthies of the earth,

As Jove will have advaunced to the skie,

And there made gods, though borne of mortall berth,

390

For their high merits and great dignitie,

Are wont, before they may to heaven flie,

To drincke hereof, whereby all cares forepast

Are washt away quite from their memorie.

So did those olde heroes hereof taste,

395

Before that they in blisse amongst the gods were plaste.

XLV

Much more of price and of more gratious powre

Is this, then that same water of Ardenne,

The which Rinaldo drunck in happie howre,

Described by that famous Tuscane penne:

400

For that had might to change the hearts of men

Fro love to hate, a change of evill choise:

But this doth hatred make in love to brenne,

And heavy heart with comfort doth rejoyce.

Who would not to this vertue rather yeeld his voice?

405

XLVI

At last arriving by the listes side,

Shee with her rod did softly smite the raile,

Which straight flew ope, and gave her way to ride.

Eftsoones out of her coch she gan availe,

And pacing fairely forth, did bid all haile,

410

First to her brother, whom she loved deare,

That so to see him made her heart to quaile:

And next to Cambell, whose sad ruefull cheare

Made her to change her hew, and hidden love t’ appeare.

XLVII

They lightly her requit (for small delight

415

They had as then her long to entertaine,)

And eft them turned both againe to fight:

Which when she saw, downe on the bloudy plaine

Her selfe she threw, and teares gan shed amaine;

Amongst her teares immixing prayers meeke,

420

And with her prayers reasons, to restraine

From blouddy strife; and blessed peace to seeke,

By all that unto them was deare, did them beseeke.

XLVIII

But when as all might nought with them prevaile,

Shee smote them lightly with her powrefull wand.

425

Then suddenly as if their hearts did faile,

Their wrathfull blades downe fell out of their hand,

And they like men astonisht still did stand.

Thus whilest their minds were doubtfully distraught,

And mighty spirites bound with mightier band,

430

Her golden cup to them for drinke she raught,

Whereof, full glad for thirst, ech drunk an harty draught.

XLIX

Of which so soone as they once tasted had,

Wonder it is that sudden change to see:

Instead of strokes, each other kissed glad,

435

And lovely haulst, from feare of treason free,

And plighted hands for ever friends to be.

When all men saw this sudden change of things,

So mortall foes so friendly to agree,

For passing joy, which so great marvaile brings,

440

They all gan shout aloud, that all the heaven rings.

All which when gentle Canacee beheld,

In hast she from her lofty chaire descended,

Too weet what sudden tidings was befeld:

Where when she saw that cruell war so ended,

445

And deadly foes so faithfully affrended,

In lovely wise she gan that lady greet,

Which had so great dismay so well amended,

And entertaining her with curt’sies meet,

Profest to her true friendship and affection sweet.

450

Thus when they all accorded goodly were,

The trumpets sounded, and they all arose,

Thence to depart with glee and gladsome chere.

Those warlike champions both together chose

Homeward to march, themselves there to repose,

455

And wise Cambina, taking by her side

Faire Canacee, as fresh as morning rose,

Unto her coch remounting, home did ride,

Admir’d of all the people and much glorifide.

LII

Where making joyous feast theire daies they spent

460

In perfect love, devoide of hatefull strife,

Allide with bands of mutuall couplement;

For Triamond had Canacee to wife,

With whom he ledd a long and happie life;

And Cambel tooke Cambina to his fere,

465

The which as life were each to other liefe.

So all alike did love, and loved were,

That since their days such lovers were not found elswhere.

CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

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