One would have thought, (so cunningly the rude
And scorned parts were mingled with the fine)
That Nature had for wantonness ensude
Art, and that Art at Nature did repine;
So striving each th' other to undermine,
Each did the other's work, more beautify,
So differing both in wills agreed in fine:
So all agreed, through sweet diversity,
This garden to adorn with all variety.
And in the midst of all a fountain stood,
Of richest substance that on the earth might be,
So pure and shiny, that the silver flood
Through every channel running one might see:
Most goodly it with curious imagery
Was over-wrought, and shapes of naked boys,
Of which some seem'd, with lively jollity,
To fly about, playing their wanton toys,
Whilst others did themselves embay in liquid joys.
And over all of purest gold was spread
A trayle of ivy in his native hue;
For the rich metal was so coloured,
That wight, who did not well advis'd it view,
Would surely deem it to be ivy true:
Low his lascivious arms adown did creep,
That themselves, dipping in the silver dew
Their fleecy flowers, they fearfully did steep, Which drops of crystal seem'd for wantonness to weep.
Infinite streams continually did well
Out of this fountain, sweet and fair to see,
The which into an ample laver fell,
And shortly grew to so great quantity,
That like a little lake it seemed to be,
Whose depth exceeded not three cubits height,
That through the waves one might the bottom see,
All pav'd beneath with jasper, shining bright,
That seem'd the fountain in that sea did sail upright.
And all the margent round about was set
With shady laurel trees, thence to defend
The sunny beams which on the billows beat,
And those which therein bathed mote offend.
As Guyon happen'd by the same to wend,
Two naked damsels he therein espied,
Which therein bathing, seemed to contend
And wrestle wantonly, ne car'd to hide
Their dainty parts from view of any which them ey'd,
As that fair star, the messenger of morn,
His dewy face out of the sea doth rear;
Or as the Cyprian goddess, newly born
Of th' ocean's fruitful froth, did first appear
Such seemed they, and so their yellow heare
Crystalline humour dropped down apace.
Whom such when Guyon saw, he drew him near,
And somewhat 'gan relent his earnest pace;
His stubborn breast 'gan secret pleasaunce to em-
brace.
On which when gazing him the palmer saw,
He much rebuk'd those wand'ring eyes of his,
And, counsell'd well, him forward thence did draw.
Now are they come nigh to the Bower of Bliss,
Of her fond favourites so nam'd amiss;
When thus the palmer: "Now, Sir, well avise,
For here the end of all our travel is;
Here wonnes Acrasia, whom we must surprise,
Else she will slip away, and all our drift despise."
Eftsoons they heard a most melodious sound,
Of all that mote delight a dainty ear,
Such as at once might not on living ground,
Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere:
Right hard it was for wight which did it hear,
To rede what manner music that mote be;
For all that pleasing is to living ear,
Was there consorted in one harmony;
Birds, voices, instruments, winds, waters, all agree.
The joyous birds, shrouded in cheerful shade,
Their notes unto the voice attemper'd sweet;
Th' angelical soft trembling voices made
To th' instruments divine respondence meet;
The silver-sounding instruments did meet
With the base murmur of the water's fall;
The water's fall with difference discreet,
Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call;
The gentle warbling wind low answered to all.
FULL many ways within her troubled mind
Old Glauce cast to cure this lady's grief;
Full many ways she sought, but none could find,
Nor herbs, nor charms, nor counsel, that is chief
And choicest med'cine for sick heart's relief;
Forthy great care she took, and greater fear.
Least that it should her turn to foul reprief,
And sore reproach, whenso her father dear
Should of his dearest daughter's hard misfortune
hear.
At last she her advis'd, that he which made
That mirror wherein the sick damosel
So strangely viewed her strange lover's shade,
To weet the learned Merlin, well could tell
Under what coast of heaven the man did dwell,
And by what means his love might best be wrought;
For though beyond the Afric Ismael,
Or th' Indian Peru he were, she thought
Him forth through infinite endeavour to have sought.
Forthwith themselves disguising both in strange
And base attire, that none might them bewray,,
To Maridunum, that is now by change
Of name Cayr-Merdin call'd, they took their way;
There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say)
To make his wonne, low underneath the ground,
In a deep delve, far from the view of day;
That of no living wight he mote be found,
Whenso he counsell'd, with his sprites encompass'd
round.
And if thou ever happen that same way
To travel, go to see that dreadful place:
It is an hideous hollow cave (they say)
Under a rock that lies a little space
From the swift Barry, tumbling down apace
Amongst the woody hills of Dynevowre:
But dare thou not, I charge, in any case,
To enter into that same baleful bower,
For fear the cruel fiends should thee unwares de
But standing high aloft, low lay thine ear,
And there such ghastly noise of iron chains,
And brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear,
Which thousand sprites, with long-enduring pains,
Do toss, that it will stun thy feeble brains;
And oftentimes great groans and grievous stounds,
When too huge toil and labour them constrains,
And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds,
From under that deep rock most horribly rebounds.
The cause, some say, is this: a little while
Before that Merlin died, he did intend
A brazen wall in compass to compile
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