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And rend in pieces with his ravenous paws, If ever he transgress'd the fatal Stygian laws.

That house's form within was rude and strong,
Like an huge cave hewn out of rocky clift,
From whose rough vault the ragged breaches hung
Embost with massy gold of glorious gift;
And with rich metal loaded every rift,
That heavy ruin they did seem to threat;
And over them Arachne high did lift

Her cunning web, and spread her subtle net,

Enwrapped in foul smoke and clouds more black than jet.

Both roof and floor and walls were all of gold,
But overgrown with dust and old decay,

And hid in darkness, that none could behold
The hue thereof; for view of cheerful day
Did never in that house itself display,

But a faint shadow of uncertain light:

Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away;

Or as the moon, clothed with cloudy night,

Does show to him that walks in fear and sad affright.

In all that room was nothing to be seen

But huge great iron chests, and coffers strong, All barr'd with double bands, that none could ween Them to enforce by violence or wrong;

On every side they placed were along.

But all the ground with sculls was scattered

And dead mens bones, which round about were flung; Whose lives, it seemèd, whylome there were shed,

And their vile carcasses now left unburièd.

They forward pass; ne Guyon yet spoke word
Till that they came unto an iron door,
Which to them openèd of his own accord,
And show'd of riches such exceeding store
As eye of man did never see before,
Ne ever could within one place be found,

Though all the wealth which is or was of yore
Could gather'd be through all the world around,
And that above were added to that under ground.

The charge thereof unto a covetous spright

Commanded was, who thereby did attend,

And warily awaited day and night,

From other covetous fiends it to defend,
Who it to rob and ransack did intend.
Then Mammon, turning to that warrior, said:—
"Lo, here the worldès bliss! lo, here the end
To which all men do aim, rich to be made!
Such grace now to be happy is before thee laid."

"Certes," said he, "I n'ill thine off'red grace, Ne to be made so happy do intend! Another bliss before mine eyes I place,

Another happiness, another end.

To them that list, these base regards I lend; But I in arms, and in achievements brave,

Do rather choose my fleeting hours to spend, And to be lord of those that riches have,

Than them to have myself, and be their servile slave."

Thereat the fiend his gnashing teeth did grate,

And grieved, so long to lack his greedy prey: For well he weenèd that so glorious bait

Would tempt his guest to take thereof assay; Had he so done, he had him snatch'd away More light than culver in the falcon's fist:

Eternal God thee save from such decay! But whenas Mammon saw his purpose miss'd,

Him to entrap unwares another way he wist.

Thence, forward he him led, and shortly brought
Unto another room, whose door forthright

To him did open as it had been taught;

Therein an hundred ranges weren pight,
And hundred furnaces all burning bright:
By every furnace many fiends did bide,—
Deformed creatures, horrible in sight;
And every fiend his busy pains applied
To melt the golden metal, ready to be tried.

One with great bellows gather'd filling air,

And with forced wind the fuel did inflame;
Another did the dying brands repair

With iron tongs, and sprinkled of the same
With liquid waves, fierce Vulcan's rage to tame,
Who, mast'ring them, renew'd his former heat;

Some scumm'd the dross that from the metal came;

Some stirr'd the molten ore with ladles great;
And every one did swinck, and every one did sweat.

But when an earthly wight they present saw

Glist'ring in arms and battailous array,

From their hot work they did themselves withdraw
To wonder at the sight; for till that day,
They never creature saw that came that way:
Their staring eyes, sparkling with fervent fire
And ugly shapes, did nigh the Man dismay,
That, were it not for shame, he would retire;

Till that him thus bespake their sovereign lord and sire:

"Behold, thou Faerys son, with mortal eye

That living eye before did never see!
The thing that thou didst crave so earnestly,

To weet whence all the wealth late show'd by me
Proceeded, lo! now is reveal'd to thee.

Here is the fountain of the worldès good!

Now therefore if thou wilt enrichèd be,

Avise thee well, and change thy willful mood;
Lest thou perhaps hereafter wish, and be withstood."

"Suffice it then, thou money-god," quoth he,
"That all thine idle offers I refuse.

All that I need I have: what needeth me

To covet more than I have cause to use?
With such vain shows thy worldlings vile abuse;

But give me leave to follow mine emprize."

Mammon was much displeased, yet n'ote he choose But bear the rigor of his bold mesprise:

And thence him forward led, him further to entice.

SIR GUYON AND THE PALMER VISIT AND DESTROY THE

BOWER OF BLISS

From the Faery Queene'

HUS being ent'red they behold around

THUS

A large and spacious plain on every side.

Strowed with pleasaunce; whose fair grassy ground
Mantled with green, and goodly beautified

With all the ornaments of Floras pride,

Wherewith her mother Art, as half in scorn

Of niggard Nature, like a pompous bride

Did deck her, and too lavishly adorn,

When forth from virgin bow'r she comes in th' early morn.

Thereto the heavens always jovial

Look'd on them lovely, still in steadfast state,
Ne suff'red storm nor frost on them to fall,

Their tender buds or leaves to violate;
Nor scorching heat, nor cold intemperate,
T' afflict the creatures which therein did dwell;
But the mild air with season moderate

Gently attemp'red and disposed so well,

That still it breath'd forth sweet spirit and wholesome smell.

More sweet and wholesome than the pleasant hill

Of Rhodope, on which the nymph that bore

A giant babe, herself for grief did kill;

Or the Thessalian Tempe, where of yore

Fair Daphne Phoebus's heart with love did gore; Or Ida, where the gods loved to repair,

Whenever they their heavenly bow'rs forlore;

Or sweet Parnasse, the haunt of Muses fair; Or Eden self, if ought with Eden mote compare.

Much wond'red Guyon at the fair aspéct

Of that sweet place, yet suff'red no delight
To sink into his sense, nor mind affect;

But passèd forth, and look'd still forward right,
Bridling his will and mastering his might:
Till that he came unto another gate;

No gate, but like one, being goodly dight
With boughs and branches, which did broad dilate
Their clasping arms in wanton wreathings intricate.

So fashioned a porch with rare device,
Arch'd overhead with an embracing vine,
Whose bunches hanging down seem'd to entice
All passers-by to taste their luscious wine,
And did themselves into their hands incline,
As freely offering to be gathered;

Some deep empurplèd as the hyacine,
Some as the ruby laughing sweetly red,
Some like fair emeralds, not yet well ripened.

And them amongst some were of burnish'd gold,
So made by art to beautify the rest,
Which did themselves amongst the leaves enfold,
As lurking from the view of covetous guest,
That the weak boughs with so rich load opprest
Did bow adown as overburdenèd.

Under that porch a comely dame did rest,
Clad in fair weeds but foul disorderèd,

And garments loose that seem'd unmeet for womanhead.

In her left hand a cup of gold she held,

And with her right the riper fruit did reach, Whose sappy liquor, that with fullness swell'd, Into her cup she scruzed with dainty breach Of her fine fingers, without foul empeach, That so fair wine-press made the wine more sweet: Thereof she used to give to drink to each Whom passing by she happened to meet; It was her guise all strangers goodly so to greet.

So she to Guyon off'red it to taste,

Who, taking it out of her tender hond,
The cup to ground did violently cast,

That all in pieces it was broken fond,
And with the liquor stainèd all the lond:

Whereat Excess exceedingly was wroth,

Yet no'te the same amend, ne yet withstond, But suffer'd him to pass, all were she loth:

Who, nought regarding her displeasure, forward go'th.

There the most dainty paradise on ground
Itself doth offer to his sober eye,

In which all pleasures plenteously abound,
And none does others happiness envy:

The painted flow'rs; the trees upshooting high; The dales for shade; the hills for breathing space; The trembling groves; the crystal running by; And that which all fair works doth most aggrace The art which all that wrought-appeared in no place.

One would have thought (so cunningly the rude
And scornèd parts were mingled with the fine)

That Nature had for wantonness ensued

Art, and that Art at Nature did repine;

So striving each th' other to undermine,

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