Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward; With humble service to her will prepard. From her fair eyes he took commandement, And ever by her lookes conceived her intent." The story of the fair Una ends happily, and we see her, at the end of the first book, united to her knight on a happy wedding day, when she lays her sad garments aside and appears in a gown "All lilly white, withoutten spot or pride, That seemed like silke and silver woven neare, "The blazing brightnesse of her beautie's beame, "And ever, when his eie did her behold, XVII. ON SPENSER'S "FAIRY QUEEN.” THE story of Florimel—a musical name made out of flowers and honey is another of the interesting episodes in The Fairy Queen. She appears first in the third book, a beautiful picture of fright, fleeing on a white palfrey from a monster who seeks to devour her. She reappears in many cantos, in all sorts of romantic adventures, until the fifth book, when all her troubles are ended amid the festivities that attend her marriage to the handsome Prince Marinell. The women in Spenser's poem are a constant delight to the imagination. They live in his pages like creatures in some land of enchantment, and while they are not like real women in a real world, they are so natural to their surroundings that we cannot help believing in them as much as if they had actually existed. The heroine of the third book is Britomart, a royal maid of Britain, who puts on a helmet and armor, and in disguise of a knight goes forth to seek her lover, Sir Artegall. In her course Britomart meets with all sorts of romantic adventures; yet Spenser has managed to preserve for his heroine all the sweet charm of womanliness, in spite of her Amazonian equipment. Here are some stanzas which give an account of her battle with the scornful Marinell, afterwards the bridegroom of Florimel. The fourth canto of the third book begins with this description of the battle: "Where is the antique glory now become Where be the brave atchievements doen by some? "Yet these, and all that els had puissaunce As for pure chastitee and vertue rare, That all her goodly deedes doe well declare ... Well worthie stock from which the branches sprong, "But Britomart kept on her former course, ... So forth she rode, without repose or rest, "There she alighted from her light-foot beast, And sitting down upon the rocky shore, Badd her old squyre unlace her lofty creast: Tho having vewd awhile the surges hore That 'gainst the craggy cliffs did loudly rore, And in their raging surquedry disdayned That the fast earth affronted them so sore, And their devouring covetize restrayned; Thereat she sighed deepe, and after thus complayned: "Huge sea of sorrow and tempestuous griefe Wherein my feeble barke is tossed long, Far from the hoped haven of reliefe, Why doe thy cruel billowes beat so strong, And thy moyst mountaines each on others throng, Threatning to swallow up my fearefull lyfe? O, doe thy cruell wrath, and spightfull wrong At length allay, and stint thy stormy strife, Which in thy troubled bowels raignes and rageth ryfe. . . "Thou God of winds, that raignest in the seas, At last blow up some gentle gale of ease, Of thy great grace and my great jeopardee, "Thus as she her recomforted, she spyde (Both coosen passions of distroubled spright) Converting, forth she beates the dusty path; Love and despight attonce her corage kindled hath. "As when a foggy mist hath overcast The face of heven and the cleare ayre engrosste, The mist of griefe dissolv'd did into vengeance powre. "Eftsoones, her goodly shield addressing fayre, Ne doest by others' death ensample take, "Y-thrild with deepe disdaine of his proud threat, But with sharpe speare the rest made dearly knowne, Strooke her full on the breast, that made her downe "But she againe him in the shield did smite That, through his three-square scuchin percing quite, Beyond his croupe, the length of all her launce; He tombled on an heape, and wallowd in his gore. "Like as the sacred oxe, that carelesse stands The second book, which gives the adventures of Sir Guyon, has some of the finest contrasts, from Spenser's grandest style to his most beautiful and poetic. The visit to Mammon's Cave is one of the strongest pieces of description, and the account of Guyon's entrance into the gardens of the Bower of Acrasia is one of the most beautiful things in all the book. No other poet could describe a garden as Spenser could. His description of the garden in the Fate of the Butterfly is as good as a painting of it, and the gardens of this Bower of Bliss are no less perfectly portrayed. Sir Guyon enters these gardens through a gate framed of interlacing vines, whose luscious bunches of fruit seem to offer themselves to the hands of all who pass under it. Within this gate lies the bower of Acrasia, the mistress of the enchanted place. We will begin just where Guyon passes through the gateway: "There the most daintie paradise on ground In which all pleasures plenteously abownd, "Infinit streames continually did well Out of this fountaine, sweete and faire to see, Whose depth exceeded not three cubits hight. "Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound, Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all agree. “The joyous birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade, |