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                          TALES FROM SPENSER
                     CHOSEN FROM THE FAERIE QUEENE

                         BY SOPHIA H MACLEHOSE


    PUBLISHED BY
    JAMES MACLEHOSE AND SONS, GLASGOW,
    Publishers to the University.

    MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON AND NEW YORK.

    _London,        Simpkin, Hamilton and Co._
    _Cambridge,     Macmillan and Bowes._
    _Edinburgh,     Douglas and Foulis._

    MDCCCXCII.

       TO MY NEPHEWS
    HAMISH AND CRAWFORD.




PREFACE.


In writing these Tales from "The Faerie Queene," no attempt has been
made to interpret their allegorical or explain their historic bearing.
Intended for children, the stories are related simply as stories, and
therefore only those episodes in the poem most interesting and most
complete in themselves have been chosen. In no case do the Tales pretend
to relate the whole that Spenser tells of their heroes and heroines.




CONTENTS.


Una and the Lion

Prince Arthur helps Una to find the Red-cross Knight

How the Red-cross Knight slew the Dragon

Britomart and the Magic Mirror

Britomart and Amoret

The Story of Marinell and Florimell

Braggadochio

How Britomart found Artegal

Cambello and Triamond

The Story of Timias

Calidore and Pastorella




TALES FROM SPENSER.




UNA AND THE LION.

Faerie Queene. Book I. Cantos I., III., VI.


Once upon a time, while fairies and goblins still lingered in the
forests of Merry England, a great queen named Gloriana reigned over
Faeryland. The subjects over whom she ruled were not tiny creatures like
Oberon and Titania, but brave knights who went out from her court
endowed with magic powers to redress wrongs and help those in trouble.

Now there lived at this time a king and queen of very ancient lineage,
whose dominions stretched from east to west, and who had once held all
the world in subjection. But a cruel enemy had arisen against them, and
destroyed their rich lands, and killed the inhabitants, and forced the
king and queen to take refuge in a strong castle, guarded by a mighty
wall of brass. This enemy was no other than a huge and fearful dragon.
From every quarter of the globe knights came to fight the accursed
beast, but only those whose faith was strong and conscience clear could
prevail; and thus knight after knight fell before the dragon, who grew
stronger and more cruel in his success.

The king and queen had one child, a daughter, whose name was Una. She
loved her parents dearly, and hearing of the knights of queen Gloriana,
she resolved to go to the Faerie Court and pray for assistance for her
parents who had now been four years prisoners, and were in great
distress. She set out upon her journey, dressed in a long black robe
covered by a deep veil; she rode an ass as white as snow, and led by a
line a milk-white lamb, a symbol of innocence. Behind her followed a
dwarf, bearing a spear in his hand, and leading a war-like steed, on
whose back was laid a suit of armour. Thus accoutred, Una appeared at
the court of Gloriana.

Shortly before, a young man, tall and powerful, but clownish in
appearance, had arrived at the Faerie Court and had prayed to be sent on
the first adventure that should arise. When, therefore, Una came and
preferred her request, the young man claimed the enterprise as his
right. Gloriana wondered at his boldness, for he had not a knightly air,
and Una herself objected, but he only urged his suit the more, and at
length Una said he might try on the armour she had brought, but that,
unless it fitted him perfectly, it was impossible he could succeed in so
dangerous an enterprise.

Now, the armour which Una had was that of a Christian knight; and when
it was tried on, lo! the clownish youth changed into the noblest of all
the company. And Queen Gloriana conferred knighthood upon him; and he,
mounting the steed led by the dwarf, went forth with Una to vanquish her
foe. Henceforth the youth is called the Red-cross knight, for on his
silver shield, and on the breast-plate of his armour, was a blood-red
cross, the symbol of the Christian faith. And the knight proved right
worthy of his cross: he was true and faithful both in word and deed, and
his countenance was grave and sober, befitting one who dreaded no
danger, but was himself held in dread; so Una loved him well.

Now, it happened that, shortly after Una and her knight had left the
court of Gloriana, they met a grave old man dressed in long black weeds;
he had bare feet, and a hoary head, and a book hung from his side; and
as he walked, he prayed and smote upon his breast in the manner of a
hermit. But he was, instead, a wicked enchanter named Archimago, who, by
means of the most cunning tricks, deceived the Red-cross knight, made
him think Una an impostor, and beguiled him and also the dwarf away from
her. This made the lady very sad, for not only was she lonely and
helpless in the strange land through which she was passing, but, unless
she could find the knight, she must give up the hope of seeing the cruel
dragon subdued and her dear parents set free. So Una, brave as she was
good, put away her fears, and travelled on through vast forests and
desolate moors, seeking for her knight.

One day, when almost wearied out, Una alighted from her slow-footed
steed, and, taking off her robe and unbinding the band which confined
her hair, lay down to rest; and so fair and lovely was she that her
sweet countenance made sunshine in the shady place in which she lay.
Now, while she rested, there suddenly burst out from the forest a lion,
hungry and greedy, who, seeing the maiden, ran towards her with jaws
wide-open, ready to devour his prey. But, as the lion drew nearer to the
maiden, his rage changed into pity, and, amazed at the fair sight before
him, he forgot his savage fury and licked her lily hands and kissed her
weary feet. And Una, unable at first to cease from the fear of death,
watched him, hardly believing her eyes, and then her heart began to melt
in gratitude and her tears to flow, as she thought how this fierce lord
of beasts pitied her, while her own lord, whom she loved as her very
life, had forsaken her.

At length Una checked her tears, and, trying to put away her grief,
arose, and, remounting her humble steed, set out again to seek her
knight. But she was no longer a defenceless maiden, for with her went
the lion--a strong guardian and faithful comrade--who, while she slept,
kept both watch and ward, and, while she waked, waited on her will,
taking direction from his lady's eye.

One day, as the damsel and the lion travelled thus through untrodden
deserts, they unexpectedly came upon a beaten path. Following this path,
which led under the brow of a steep mountain, Una observed a young girl
walking slowly before them, bearing on her shoulder a water-pot. To her
Una called, and asked if there were any dwelling-place near at hand. But
the girl was rude, and did not reply; indeed, she seemed neither to hear
nor understand, and when she saw the lion fear seized upon her, and,
throwing down her pitcher, she fled. She dared not once look back, but
ran as if her life depended on her speed, until she reached her home,
where sat her mother old and blind. This was Corceca, a wicked woman and
a hypocrite, who was wont daily to fast and pray and do painful penance.
With trembling hands, the girl caught hold of the old woman, and
exhibited such signs of terror that her mother rose in great alarm and
hastened to close the door just as Una and her strange page arrived. Una
prayed hard for admittance, but in vain; and at this the lion lifted his
great paws, and, tearing down the wicket door, let his lady in. She
found the two women almost dead with fright, crouching in the darkest
corner of the hovel. Una tried to calm their fears by gentle words and
looks, and after a time succeeded so far as to receive permission to
rest there for the night. She was very weary and laid herself down on
the floor--the lion at her feet--but she was too sad for the loss of the
Red-cross knight to sleep, and so spent the long hours in sighs and
groans and bitter tears.

At length morning approached, and with it came some one knocking at the
door. He knocked loud and repeatedly, and was heard to curse and swear
because the door was not more readily opened to him. Now, he who knocked
was a wicked thief, who robbed churches and stole money from the poor
men's box. At this very moment he had on his back a heavy load of stolen
goods, for all that he got, whether by lawful means or unlawful, he
brought to this old woman's house and bestowed upon her daughter Abessa,
who was as wicked as herself. There he stood knocking at the door, but
neither Abessa nor Corceca dared pass by the lion to open. At length,
Kirk-rapine, for such was his name, became quite furious and would wait
no longer, but burst open the door. Alas! for Kirk-rapine; the moment he
entered, the lion rose from Una's feet, and, outstretching his lordly
paws, laid the robber low. The wretched man was powerless to resist, nor
did Abessa or Corceca dare to go to his assistance, and very soon
Kirk-rapine lay quite dead--his body torn in pieces, and his blood
flowing into the earth.

Now, when the broad daylight returned, Una arose, and with her the lion,
and once more set out together to seek the knight. As soon as she was
gone, the women came out from their dark corner, to see whether or not
their worst fears were realized. When they saw that Kirk-rapine was
indeed slain, they tore their hair, and beat their breasts, and, half
mad with malice and revenge, rushed forth in pursuit of Una. As soon as
they got near her, they began to shout and cry after her, calling her
all sorts of bad names and praying that every kind of evil might befall
her. At length, tired out with their own curses, they turned back, and
on the way met one clad in armour as became a knight.

This was, however, no knight, but Archimago, the wicked enchanter, who,
not content with having separated Una from her champion, sought to lead
her into further distress. He stopped the old woman, and, describing
Una, asked if she had seen any such lady. Thereupon Corceca's passion
became renewed, and, crying and cursing, she declared she knew her but
too well, and told him which way to take.

Before long, Archimago came where "Una travelled slow," her fierce
guardian treading by her side. The sight of the lion alarmed the
enchanter, and he turned aside, not daring to approach too near. Now
Archimago had taken care to disguise himself as Una's own Red-cross
knight. When, therefore, she recognized the well-known shield, she
turned and rode towards him, and, as she approached more near, became
assured in her own mind that this was indeed her lost lord. Hastening
on, in much humility and with tears in her eyes, she exclaimed: "Ah! my
long-lost lord, where have you been so long hidden from my sight?" The
pretended knight replied "that his absence had been enforced in that a
certain Archimago had sent him on an adventure, from which he had now
returned successful, and ready henceforth to abide by her and defend her
by land and sea." His words made Una very happy. In her new-found joy,
she forgot the pains and toils she had encountered and journeyed on,
discoursing happily of all that had befallen her.

They had not, however, travelled far when they saw an armed horseman
riding towards them at full speed. Although his horse was covered with
foam, the warrior kept spurring it from time to time, and looked as if
he were breathing forth dread threats of vengeance on some unknown
victim. On his shield his name Sansloy was written in red letters. Now,
this Sansloy was a Saracen knight, and was brother of another knight
named Sansfoy, but this brother had encountered the Red-cross knight
shortly after he and Una left the Faerie Court, and had been slain by
him. The moment, therefore, that Sansloy had seen the cross on
Archimago's armour, he had determined to avenge his brother's death, and
bore down thus fiercely on the enchanter and the lady. But Archimago had
no mind to fight; he grew faint and fearful when he saw the warrior, and
it was only when Una cheered him on that he ventured to couch his spear
or put spurs to his horse. Sansloy showed no mercy, but came on with
such force and fierceness that his spear went right through Archimago's
shield and hurled his antagonist from his charger, so that he fell
heavily to the ground, while the blood gushed from his wound.
Immediately Sansloy leapt from his steed and hastened toward his
prostrate foe exclaiming, "Lo! there the worthy meed of him who slew
Sansfoy with bloody knife," and thereupon began to unlace Archimago's
helmet, thinking to sever his head at one stroke. But Una saw his
purport, and cried out, beseeching him to hold "that heavy hand," urging
that surely Sansloy's revenge was enough when he saw his foe lie
vanquished at his feet. To her piteous words the cruel Saracen paid no
attention, but tore off the other's helmet, and would have given the
fatal blow had he not perceived before him, instead of the Red-cross
knight, the hoary head of Archimago the enchanter. He stayed his hand,
and gazed on the old man in amazement, for he knew him well, and knew
that, skilful as Archimago was in charms and magic, he was but little
used to war.

"Why, Archimago," he exclaimed, "what do I see? What hard mishap is
this?"

The enchanter answered him never a word, but lay in a trance, apparently
dying, and Sansloy, who had no compassion in his soul, made no attempt
to render him assistance.

He turned instead to Una, who, poor damsel, was in sore amazement to see
that he whom she had believed her own true knight was the cruel
enchanter who had caused all her distress. Her wonder soon changed into
terror, for Sansloy proceeded to seize hold of her white veil and pluck
her rudely from her steed and gaze boldly in her face. But now arose the
lion, her fierce servant, and, full of kingly rage at seeing his lady
thus maltreated, sprang upon the Saracen, and with sharp-rending claws
strove to tear away his shield. But Sansloy was very strong and wary,
and, redeeming the shield from the lion's paws, he drew his sword. Alas!
the power of the wild beast was all too weak to withstand a foe armed at
every point and so mighty in strength and in skill as Sansloy. Very soon
the deadly steel pierced the lion's heart, and he roared aloud, and life
forsook him. Una was left alone in the hands of a cruel warrior, bereft
of hope, for her faithful guardian was slain. She knew not where to look
for help, and indeed help seemed very far away.

The Saracen would listen to no entreaty, but lifted her on to his own
steed and bore her off, while the lowly ass, who would not forsake his
lady, followed as best he could. With piteous words, she wept and begged
for freedom, but all in vain; her words only increased the hardness of
her captor's heart.

After a time, Una found herself borne into a wild forest. Here the
damsel's terror became extreme, and she cried aloud in her distress. She
had no hope of succour, but succour came.

    "Eternal providence, exceeding thought,
    Where none appears, can make herself a way."

And a wondrous way in this case it proved.

Far off in the wood, a troop of Fauns and Satyrs, wild, untamed
inhabitants of deepest forests, were dancing, whilst old Sylvanus, their
god, lay sleeping. These, hearing Una's cry, left their sport, and,
running towards the spot from which the cry had come, appeared suddenly
on the scene.

They were a rude, misshapen, even frightful-looking crowd, and Sansloy,
like the wicked knight that he was, seized with superstitious fears,
took fright and fled. But, when the Satyrs beheld Una all alone, sad and
desolate, her fair face stained with tears, they stood still before her,
astonished at her beauty, and pitiful of her distress. And she, more
amazed than they, began to fear and tremble afresh, for wild stories
were told of the Satyrs and of their lawless deeds. And it seemed to her
that a worse lot than ever before had now befallen her. So fearful was
she that she dared neither speak nor move.

The wild people read Una's sorrow in her sad countenance, and, laying
aside the rough, frowning looks they usually wore, began to grin and
smile and bend their knees before her, trying thus to comfort her.
Uncertain whether or not she dare trust herself to them, Una stood
irresolute. They, as they watched her, were overcome by pity of her
tender youth and wonder at her sovereign beauty, and prostrating
themselves on the ground, kissed her feet and fawned upon her with their
most kindly looks.

Then Una, guessing their hearts ar