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LADY UNA AND THE LION.

19 And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherish'd long!

20 She wept with pity and delight,

She blush'd with love and virgin shame;
And, like the murmur of a dream,

I heard her breathe my name.

21 Her bosom heaved, she stepp'd aside,
As conscious of my look she stepp'd, -
Then suddenly, with timorous eye,
She fled to me and wept.

22 She half enclosed me with her arms,
She press'd me with a meek embrace;
And, bending back her head, look'd up,
And gazed upon my face.

23 'T was partly love, and partly fear,
And partly 't was a bashful art,
That I might rather feel than see
The swelling of her heart.

24 I calm'd her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,

My bright and beauteous Bride.

S. T. COLERIDGE: 1772-1834.

LADY UNA3 AND THE LION.

1 NOUGHT is there under heaven's wide hallowness
That moves more dear compassion of mind,

Than beauty brought t' unworthy wretchedness

Una is the heroine of the first Book of Spenser's Faerie Queene. She appears to have been intended, at least in part, as a poetical impersonation of Truth. At all events, she is one of the sweetest and loveliest visions that ever issued from a poet's brain.

In Spenser's time, the endings sion, tion, as also cian, and various others, were often used as two syllables.

Through envy's snares, or fortune's freaks unkind.
I, whether lately through her brightness blind,
Or through allegiance and fast feälty,

Which I do owe unto all womankind,

Feel my heart pierced with so great agony,
When such I see, that all for pity I could die.

2 And now it is empassionèd so deep,

For fairest Una's sake, of whom I sing,

That my frail eyes these lines with tears do steep,
To think how she through guileful handeling,5
Though true as touch, though daughter of a king,
Though fair as ever living wight was fair,
Though nor in word nor deed ill meriting,

Is from her Knight divorced in despair,

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And her due loves derived to that vile Witch's share.

3 Yet she, most faithful I dy a this while,

Forsaken, woeful, solary maid,

Far from all people's press, as in exile,

In wilderness ad wasteful deserts stray'd
To seek her Knight; who, subtilly betray'd

Through at late vision which th' Enchanter wrought,
Had her bandon'd: she, of nought affray'd,

Through wods and wasteness wide him daily rought;
Yet wished tidings none of him unto her brought.

4 One day, nigh weary of the irksome way,
From her unhasty beast she did alight;
And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay
In secret shadow, far from all men's sight;
From her fair head her fillet she undight,
And laid her stole aside: her angel's face,
As the great eye of heaven, shinèd bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place:

Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace.

That is, handling, in the sense of treatment. Here, again, we have a relic of ancient usage. So, too, in commandement, in the last stanza of this piece. And in many other like words, the old poets often make two syllables where we now make but one.

A foul and ugly old hag named Duessa, but painted and pranked up into a false show of beauty, and dealing in magic arts. She had lied and cheated the red-cross Knight, the hero of the story, out of his faith in Una, and beguiled him with her mighty spells.

LADY UNA AND THE LION.

5 It fortuned, out of the thickest wood

A ramping lion rushèd suddenly,

Hunting full greedy after savage blood:
Soon as the royal Virgin he did spy,
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
To have at once devour'd her tender corse;
But to the prey whenas he drew more nigh,
His bloody rage assuagèd with remorse,

And, with the sight amazed, forgat his furious force.

6 Instead thereof, he kiss'd her weary feet,
And lick'd her lily hands with fawning tongue,
As he her wrongèd innocence did weet.
O, how can beauty master the most strong,
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!
Whose yielded pride and proud submission,
Still dreading death, when she had marked long,
Her heart 'gan melt in great compassion;
And drizzling tears did shed for pure affection.

7 "The lion, lord of every beast in field,"
Quoth she, "his princely puissance doth abate,
And mighty proud to humble weak does yield,
Forgetful of the hungry rage which late
Him prick'd, in pity of my sad estate :-
But he, my lion, and my noble lord,
How does he find in cruel heart to hate

Her that him loved, and ever most adored

As the god of my life? why hath he me abhorr'd?"

8 Redounding tears did choke th' end of her plaint,
Which softly echo'd from the neighbour wood;
And, sad to see her sorrowful constraint,
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood;
With pity calm'd, down fell his angry mood.
At last, in close heart shutting up her pain,
Arose the Virgin born of heavenly brood,
And to her snowy palfrey got again,

To seek her strayèd Champion if she might attain.

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9 The lion would not leave her desolate,
But with her went along, as a strong guard
Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard :

Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward;
And, when she waked, he waited diligent,
With humble service to her will prepared:
From her fair eyes he took commandement,
And ever by her looks conceived her intent.

EDMUND SPENSER: 1553-1598.

VIRTUE AND PLEASURE.

1 GREAT friend and servant of the good,
Let cool awhile thy heated blood,
And from thy mighty labour cease:
Lie down, lie down,

And give thy troubled spirit peace;
Whilst Virtue, for whose sake
Thou dost this godlike travail take,
May of the choicest herbage make,
Here on this mountain bred,
A crown, a crown

For thy immortal head.

2 Go choose among,

but with a mind

As gentle as the stroking wind

Runs o'er the gentler flowers;
And so let all your actions smile,
As if they meant not to beguile
The ladies, but the hours.

3 Grace, laughter, and discourse may meet,
And yet the beauty not go less;
For what is noble should be sweet,

But not dissolved in wantonness.

4 Will you that I give the law
To all your sport, and sum it?
It should be such should envy draw,
But- overcome it.

VIRTUE.

5 An eye of looking back were well,
Or any murmur that would tell

Your thoughts, how you were sent,
And went

To walk with Pleasure, not to dwell.

6 These, these are hours by Virtue shared, Herself, she being her own reward:

But she will have you know

That, though

Her sports be soft, her life is hard.

7 You must return unto the hill,
And there advance

With labour, and inhabit still
That height and crown,

From whence you ever may look down
Upon triumphed chance.

8 She, she it is in darkness shines, 'Tis she that still herself refines

By her own light to every eye;

More seen, more known, when Vice stands by;
And, though a stranger here on Earth,

In Heaven she hath her right of birth.

9 There, there is Virtue's seat:

Strive to keep her your own;

'Tis only she can make you great, Though place here make you known.

BEN JONSON: 1574-1637.

VIRTUE.

1 SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the Earth and sky,

The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,
For thou must die.

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