XLII. And, still among, most bitter wordes they spake, She with the sting which in her vile tongue grew Did sharpen them, and in fresh poyson steepe: Yet he past on, and seem'd of them to take no keepe. XLIII. But Talus, hearing her so lewdly raile And speake so ill of him that well deserved, Would her have chástiz'd with his yron If her Sir Artegall had not preserved, flaile, And him forbidden, who his heast observed: And stones did cast; yet he for nought would swerve THE SIXTH BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QUEENE CONTAYNING THE LEGEND OF SIR CALIDORE, OR OF COURTESIE. I. THE waies, through which my weary steps I guyde Are so exceeding spacious and wyde, That I, nigh ravisht with rare thoughts delight, And, when I gin to feele decay of might, It strength to me supplies and chears my dulled spright. II. Such secret comfort and such heavenly pleasures, And there the keeping have of Learnings threasures Guyde ye my footing, and conduct me well In these strange waies where never foote did use, Ne none can find but who was taught them by the Muse : III. Revele to me the sacred noursery Of Vertue, which with you doth there remaine, From view of men and wicked worlds disdaine ; IV. Amongst them all growes not a fayrer flowre And spreds itselfe through all civilitie: Of which though present age doe plenteous seeme, Yet, being matcht with plaine antiquitie, Ye will them all but fayned showes esteeme, Which carry colours faire that feeble eies misdeeme: V. But, in the triall of true Curtesie, Its now so farre from that which then it was, That it indeed is nought but forgerie, Fashion'd to please the eies of them that pas, Which see not perfect things but in a glas : Yet is that glasse so gay that it can blynd The wisest sight, to thinke gold that is bras: But Vertues seat is deepe within the mynd, And not in outward shows but inward thoughts defynd. VI. But where shall I in all antiquity So faire a patterne finde, where may be seene The goodly praise of princely Curtesie, But meriteth indeede an higher name : Yet so, from low to high, uplifted is your Name. VII. Then pardon me, most dreaded Soveraine, CANTO I. Calidore saves from Maleffort A Damzell used vylde: Doth vanquish Crudor; and doth make I. OF Court, it seemes, men Courtesie doe call, Right so in Faery Court it did redound, Where curteous Knights and Ladies most did won Of all on earth, and made a matchlesse paragon. II. But mongst them all was none more courteous Knight In whom it seemes that gentlenesse of spright And well approv'd in batteilous affray, That him did much renowme, and far his fame display. |