deep as that dungeon, and that dungeon deep as hell and death? Upton thinks so, and has some sage comments on these three lines 66 For now three moones have changed thrice their hew, And have been thrice hid underneath the ground, Since I the heavens chearefull face did vew.” Una had told the Prince that her parents had been "four years" besieged by a monstrous dragon; according to the time mentioned in Revelations, xii. 6-viz. 1260 days; "And the woman fled into the wil derness, where she hath a place prepared of God, that they should feed her there a thousand two hundred and threescore years;" or, as it is expressed in v. 14, "to the woman were given two wings of a great eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness, into her place, where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time, from the face of the serpent." This Spenser, in round numbers, calls four years. The Christians likewise continued in a persecuted state till the time of Constantine-somewhat more than three hundred years after Christ. Let moones be interpreted years-the lunar and solar-and perhaps, saith Upton, we may find out Spenser's "hidden allegory." In Reve lations, i. 11, the beast overcomes the witnesses, who, after three days and a half, rise again; and in Daniel, vii. 25, the eleventh horn of the beast not only speaks great words against the Most High, but wears out the saints, which are given into his hand until a time, and times, and half a time. Some interpreters, continues Upton, very consistently interpret the above passages in the same sense, as months, days, and years, mean the same thing in the prophetical style; but poetry requires variety, and admits of latitude of interpretation; and 'tis very remarkable how our poet has varied the prophecy concerning the persecuted state of the Church, exemplified in Una's parents, Una herself, and the Christian knight. Thus Upton-and none have seen deeper into the allegory of the Faery Queen. And what have they done with Duessa? The Prince says to Una, "Now in your power to let her live or die;" and Una, like the Princess of Eden, replies, And shame t' avenge so weake an enemy; But spoile her of her scarlet robe, and let "To doe her die were sure despight, her fly." Even Truth knew not all the loathly ugsomeness of Falsehood; nor did the Red-Crosse, who in his infatuation had embraced her; so she is stripped-and unless you wish to spoil your appetite for dinner, we advise you not to look on the hag. Yes-look at her at all events-and suspect scarlet robes all the rest of your days. Spenser has indeed laid it on thick-and has been blamed for doing so; but he desired to sicken the strongest stomach—and to inspire mankind with one universal scunner. As for Una, she could look on aught on earth-however hideous or disgustful-unmoved as the moon or a star. "So, as she bad, that witch they disaraid, Then, when they had despoyld her tire and call, That her mishaped parts did them appall; A loathly, wrinckled hag, ill favoured, old, Whose secret filth good manners biddeth not be told. "Her crafty head was altogether bald, And, as in hate of honorable eld, Was overgrowne with scurfe and filthy scald; Her wrizled skin, as rough as maple rind, So scabby was, that would have loath'd all womankind. "She, flying fast from Heaven's hated face, And from the world that her discovered wide, But that faire crew of knights, and Una faire, To rest themselves, and weary powres repaire, Where store they fownd of al that dainty was and rare. And is the Red-Crosse reconciled to Una? We should not have asked the question, had not Warton-ay, even Tom Warton-said, "it is unnatural that the Red-Crosse Knight should be so suddenly reconciled to Una, after he had forsaken her, for her supposed infidelity and impurity. The poet should certainly first have brought about an eclaircissement between them." We cannot bring ourselves to like the word "eclaircissement" in serious composition. It is by no means Spenserian. "That the poet should have certainly first brought about an eclaircissement," we cannot agree with the critic in so dogmatically asserting; and surely Edmund Spenser knew what was natural and unnatural as well as Tom Warton. Tom-we are sorry to say it—for he was a fine spirit-is here a dunce. Did not the Dwarf narrate to Una all the witchcraft that had deluded the Red-Crosse Knight? Go back a few pages, and you will see again the whole miserable tale. And was the Dwarf wiser than his Lord? How could the Laureate-Oxonian as he was-and Fellow of Trinitybelieve that the Red-Crosse could have a doubt of Una's innocenceafter he had seen Duessa turning against him and the whore of Orgoglio? Had she not left him to rot in a dungeon? And was it possible that he could have lain three months in its hungry stench without his reason and his conscience telling him that he had been all along in the clutches of a fiend, and had forsaken an angel? His many miseries had indeed been all thrown away upon him, had he not groaned unceasingly in his imprisonment to think that his own fleshly frailties had not only laid himself low, but left that heavenly being without one to care for her in the haunted wilderness-for he knew nothing of the Lion-nor of the Sylvans-nor of Sir Satyrane-nor-till light broke into his dungeon-of Arthur the Deliverer. The sage Spenser shows us the Red-Crosse utterly mute. He is afraid-ashamed-to look in Una's face, pale as it is with unupbraiding pity. Yet he knew she had forgiven him-that her heart had not lost one drop of love-and the silence of them both speaks-far beyond the power even of Spenser's words-perfect reconciliation-ere long to be accompanied in his repentant bosom with the blessing of peace. The pathos of all this is profound-and gives us at the same time a delightful feeling of the nobility of nature in our great poet's heart. The Prince would have beseeched Una to forgive the Red-Crosse, had there been any need of an intercessor. For "O! goodly golden chayne, wherewith The vertues linked are in lovely wize; crosse knight from bands." "That weak captive Knight now wexed strong," and time was not to be lost-even in such communionfor " on a great adventure both were bound." Yet Una could not let the Prince go, till she knew who was indeed her deliverer, "Least so great good, as he for her had wrought, Should die unknown, and buried be in thankles thought." So he tells her the story of his life, which you must read in the ninth canto. He tells all he knows, but says He then speaks of his tutor the great Magician Merlin, who told him he was son and heir to a king, and Una then knows who is her deliverer, and exclaims, "But what adventure, or what high intent, Hath brought you hether into Fary Land, Aread, PRINCE ARTHURE, crowne of martiall band."" Upton observes that there is a seeming inconsistency here-for that Una had no need to bid "That straunger knight his name and nation tell," seeing that she shows she knew it, by exclaiming "Aread, Prince Arthur, crowne of martiall band." He is so kind as to make an apology for this apparent oversight on the part of Spenser-"that Fairy Knights often concealed their real names and took feigned ones. Good manners therefore made her ask, before she addressed him. Una knew not whe ther Prince Arthur was his real or assumed name, nor does he in his answer resolve this doubt." This is was distinguished for good manners. all sad nonsense. No doubt Una She asks his name for the best of all reasons, that she did not know it, and longed to know it that she might celebrate, wherever she and the Redcrosse went, the praises of their benefactor. The Prince, thinking not of his own name-as modest as illustrious-speaks of his hidden lineage-and of the great magician Merlin. Who had not heard of Merlin-and who had not heard too of the promise of his pupil? Una at once knows all she desired to know, and in delighted gratitude exclaims, "Well worthy Impe, And pupil fit for such a tutor's hand, Aread, Prince Arthure, crowne of martiall band." Arthur deserved well of Una, and Una knew that she could in noways make the Red-Crosse happier than to honour the hero who had rescued him from death. The patient was yet too weak to join much in their discourse; but no doubt he was a reverent listener, who never wearied, weak as he was, to hear the voices of his true love and of his deliverer. And their colloquy-rightly understood-is divine. "Full hard it is,' quoth he, ' to read aright The course of heavenly cause, or understand The secret meaning of th' eternall might, That rules men's waies, and rules the thoughts of living wight.'' But whether God sent him purposely to do what he had done, or that the passion of his soul brought him thither, he says to Una, "You to have helpt I hold myself yet blest." And then, at her request, most tenderly breathed, "Ah! courteous knight,' quoth she, What secret wound Could ever find to grieve the gentlest hart on ground?'" he tells her the story of his dreamkindled love for Gloriana, whom now he has been long seeking for all over Faery Lond. No tale of love was ever told more eloquently-with just enough of passion for chaste Una's ear, and chastened by the presence of her who was pure as light. What can be more beautiful than her ejaculation on its close! "O happy queene of Faeries, that hast fownd, mingled in prevalence of passion the praise of his own Una-and how that expression of the joy of love must have relieved, and vivified, and invigorated his heart! We trust you feel with us the perfection of the stanza in which he first breaks that deadlike silence in which his soul seemed swathed as a corse in its shroud. "Thine, O!' then said the gentle Redcrosse knight, 'Next to that ladies love shal be the place, O fayrest Virgin! full of heavenly light, Whose wondrous faith, exceeding earthly race, Was firmest fixt in myne extremest case. And you, my Lord, the patrone of my life, Of that greate queene may well gaine worthie grace; For onely worthie you, through prowes priefe, (Yf living man mote worthie be) to be her liefe."" What silences such converse? "The golden sunne his glisting head 'gan show; and they must part-the Prince to Gloriana's court the Red-crosse and Una to the land of Eden. They part not without mutual goodly gifts, "the signes of grateful mynde, And eke the pledges firme, right hands together ioynd." In his own esteem the Red-crosse is low-but no longer is he ashamed to look in Una's or in Arthur's face. The Prince had never seen him in his emprises and achievements-but in a dungeon-weak from a dungeon-the shadow of himself and of his former might-a spectre-an hungered-encrusted with misery, and gaunt with tokens of Mongst many one, that with his prow- threatening but averted death. But esse may Defend thine honour, and thy foes confownd! True loves are often sown, but seldom grow on ground.'' Never till this moment-never at least in Spenser's stanzas-has the Red-Crosse-since his rescue from captivity-uttered so much as one word. But now he cannot be silent -Una's fervent invocation to the lady-love of his deliverer-as yet seen but in a dream-inspires him to speak. But with his prayers for the well-being of Prince Arthur and "the Queen of Fairies bright,” is Una had told him what once had been her champion-and what again he would be "her Lion and her Lord." They were equals—the Deliverer and the Delivered. For the silver shield the Red-crosse would bear once more-once more would he couch that poignant spear-with that sword of ethereal temper would he yet hew to pieces the Great Dragon. Therefore, ere parting, as they stood with right hands together joined, Una smiled on her champion, on him who had lain humbly on the floor in Gloriana's court, and risen from the rushes to claim for his emprise Heaven forfend we should not for ever, with all our hearts, love old Homer-and all old Homer's Heroes! Diomed and Glaucus Hector and Ajax and other worthies -parting on the battle field with presents of peace. Yet here we have something more solemn-something in its spirit higher far than it was possible should be conceived by the genius of the great Ionian, who nevertheless, in his blindness saw all that had then been made visible to the inward eye, of the nobility of nature. What enchanted balsam was this—and had Prince Arthur got it from the great magician Merlin? We remember that he afterwards heals with it Amoret when "almost dead and desperate with her late hurts." "Eftsoones that precious liquor forth he Which he in store about him kept alway, The gift of the Christian Knight to Prince Arthur, was more precious diamond. The balsam could cure far than that gold-embowed box of the wounds of the body-the book those of the soul-so sanative to life that it gave life wings wherewith to fly over the grave into everlasting rest. Our paper darkens as we write, and we dimly see the words our pen lets drop among the shadows. For "Now comes still Evening on, and twiHath in her sober livery all things clad. light grey Silence accompanies!" The dear folk in the Castle of Indolence will be wondering where the Not one of them knows of this Cave old Wizard may be among the woods. and with our own hands we constructed this rustic Round table— with legs of living alder, and smooth slate-slab from the brook. No companion have we had during the many silent hours-of which canto after canto made sweet division-but that Wren. And we have not seen Kitty she sits so close-but we know she is in her nest beneath the mossy porch. Hark! Florimel-it must be she is ringing a bell, below the ruined tower-and the home-tinkle most like an articulate voice. The comes domestically up the dell-alsweet summons must be obeyedlie there lovingly together in the nook where damp never comesSpenser and Wordsworth. heaven, there is still some Poetry in the world-and thus have we passed another day in the Forest, of which the remembrance will never die, and the record live, perhaps, in many a gentle heart. Thou stillest of all brown studies! farewell! Thank |