Spenser's Faerie Queene Volume 6-7; A Poem in Six Books with the Fragment Mutabilite

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1896 Excerpt: ...his rest amongst the rusticke sort, Rather then hunt still after shadowes vaine Of courtly favour, fed with light report Of every blaste, and sayling alwaies in the port. THE Ne certes mote he greatly blamed be QUEENE From so high step to stoupe unto so low; Book VI. For who had tasted once (as oft did he) Canto X. The happy peace which there doth overflow, And prov'd the perfect pleasures which doe grow Amongst poore hyndes, in hils, in woods, in dales, Would never more delight in painted show Of such false blisse, as there is set for stales T'entrap unwary fooles in their eternall bales. For what hath all that goodly glorious gaze Like to one sight which Calidore did vew? The glaunce whereof their dimmed eies would daze, That never more they should endure the shew Of that sunne-shine that makes them looke askew: Ne ought, in all that world of beauties rare, (Save onely Glorianaes heavenly hew, To which what can compare?) can it compare; The which, as commeth now by course, I will declare. One day, as he did raunge the fields abroad, Whilest his faire Pastorella was elsewhere, He chaunst to come, far from all peoples troad, Unto a place whose pleasaunce did appere To passe all others on the earth which were: For all that ever was by natures skill Devized to worke delight was gathered there, And there by her were poured forth at fill, As if, this to adorne, she all the rest did pill. It was an hill plaste in an open plaine, That round about was bordered with a wood Of matchlesse hight, that seem'd th'earth to disdaine; In which all trees of honour stately stood, And did all winter as in sommer bud, Spredding pavilions for the birds to bowre, Which in their lower braunches sung aloud; And in their tops the soring hauke did towre, Sitting like King of fowles ...