
PENGUIN ENGLISH POETS
GENERAL EDITOR: CHRISTOPHER RICKS
EDMUND SPENSER: THE SHORTER POEMS
EDMUND SPENSER was born in London, probably in 1552, and was educated at the Merchant Taylors’ School, from which he proceeded to Pembroke College, Cambridge. There he met Gabriel Harvey, scholar and University Orator, who exerted a considerable influence on his first important poem, The Shepheardes Calender (1579) and with whom he collaborated on a volume of familiar letters (1580). He graduated BA in 1573 and proceeded MA in 1576. By 1578 he was employed as secretary to John Young, Bishop of Rochester, formerly Master of Pembroke College. He may have also served briefly in the household of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, where it is commonly assumed that he met the Earl’s nephew, Sir Philip Sidney, to whom The Shepheardes Calender is dedicated. In 1580 he went to Ireland as Secretary to Lord Grey de Wilton, Lord Deputy of Ireland, and stayed there for much of the remainder of his life, eventually becoming an undertaker in the Plantation of Munster. While at Kilcolman, his estate in County Cork, he met or reacquainted himself with his neighbour, Sir Walter Ralegh, with whom he travelled to London in 1589 to present the first three books of The Faerie Queene (1590) to its dedicatee, Queen Elizabeth, who rewarded him with an annual pension of fifty pounds. 1591 saw the publication of Complaints and Daphnaïda, the former exciting political controversy owing to the criticism of Lord Burghley contained in Mother Hubberds Tale. Spenser’s marriage to Elizabeth Boyle was celebrated in his Amoretti and Epithalamion (1595), and his pastoral eclogue, Colin Clovts Come Home Againe, appeared in the same year. In 1596 he brought out the second three books of The Faerie Queene as well as his Fowre Hymnes and Prothalamion. In 1598 his estate was burned during the Tyrone rebellion, and he fled to Cork and thence to London, where he died in 1599. He was buried in Westminster Abbey and posthumously celebrated as the ‘Prince of Poets’. In 1609 a folio edition of The Faerie Queene appeared, including the previously unpublished ‘Mutabilitie Cantos’, followed, in 1611, by a folio edition of the complete poetical works. A View of the Present State of Ireland, written in 1596, was published by Sir James Ware in 1633.
RICHARD A. McCABE is a Fellow of Merton College and Reader in English at Oxford University. He was formerly Drapers’ Research Fellow at Pembroke College, Cambridge and a Fellow of Trinity College Dublin. His publications include, Joseph Hall: A Study in Satire and Meditation (1982), The Pillars of Eternity: Time and Providence in ‘The Faerie Queene’ (1989), Incest, Drama and Nature’s Law (1993) and Presenting Poetry: Composition, Publication, Reception (1995), co-edited with Howard Erskine-Hill.
Edited by RICHARD A. McCABE
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Published in Penguin Books 1999
9
Editorial material copyright © Richard A. McCabe, 1999
All rights reserved
The moral right of the editor has been asserted
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
ISBN: 978-0-14-193951-3
ILLUSTRATIONS
CHRONOLOGY
INTRODUCTION
FROM A THEATRE FOR WORLDLINGS
Epigrams
Sonets
THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER
Januarye
Februarie
March
Aprill
Maye
June
Julye
August
September
October
Nouember
December
FROM LETTERS (1580)
COMPLAINTS
The Ruines of Time
The Teares of the Muses
Virgils Gnat
Prosopopoia. Or Mother Hubberds Tale
Ruines of Rome: by Bellay
Mviopotmos
Visions of the Worlds Vanitie
The Visions of Bellay
The Visions of Petrarch
DAPHNAÏDA
COLIN CLOVTS COME HOME AGAINE
Colin Clovts Come Home Againe
Astrophel
Dolefull Lay of Clorinda
AMORETTI AND EPITHALAMION
Amoretti
Anacreontics
Epithalamion
FOWRE HYMNES
An Hymne in Honovr of Love
An Hymne in Honovr of Beavtie
An Hymne of Heavenly Love
An Hymne of Heavenly Beavtie
PROTHALAMION
COMMENDATORY SONNETS
ATTRIBUTED VERSES
NOTES
Abbreviations
GLOSSARY OF COMMON TERMS
TEXTUAL APPARATUS
FURTHER READING
All of the illustrations are by courtesy of the Bodleian Library with the exception of those from Daphnaïda and Amoretti and Epithalamion which are reproduced by permission of the British Library. Details of the editions used are supplied in the Textual Apparatus.
A THEATRE FOR WORLDLINGS, title-page
Epigram 1
Epigram 2
Epigram 3
Epigram 4
Epigram 5
Epigram 6
Sonet 2
Sonet 3
Sonet 4
Sonet 5
Sonet 6
Sonet 7
Sonet 8
Sonet 9
Sonet 10
Sonet 11
Sonet 12
Sonet 13
Sonet 14
Sonet 15
THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER, title-page
Januarye
Februarie
March
Aprill
Maye
June
Julye
August
September
October
Nouember
December
LETTERS (1580), title-page
COMPLAINTS, title-page
The Teares of the Muses, title-page
Prosopopoia. Or Mother Hubberds Tale, title-page
Mviopotmos, title-page
DAPHNAÏDA, title-page
COLIN CLOVTS COME HOME AGAINE, title-page
Astrophel, title-page
AMORETTI AND EPITHALAMION, title-page
Epithalamion, title-page
FOWRE HYMNES, title-page
PROTHALAMION, title-page
|
1547 |
Death of Henry VIII. Accession of Edward VI. |
|
1552? |
Birth of Spenser in London (but the date is uncertain and may be as late as 1554). |
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1553 |
Death of Edward VI. Accession of Mary Tudor. |
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1554 |
Birth of Sir Philip Sidney. Mary weds the future Philip II of Spain. |
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1556 |
Accession of Philip II to the Spanish throne. |
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1558 |
Death of Mary Tudor. Accession of Elizabeth I. |
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1561–9 |
Spenser attends the Merchant Taylors’ School under Richard Mulcaster. |
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1564 |
Birth of Shakespeare and Marlowe. |
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1566 |
Birth of James VI of Scotland. |
|
1567 |
Revolt of the Low Countries. |
|
1568 |
Mary Queen of Scots flies to England. |
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1569 |
Publication of A Theatre for Worldlings with translations by Spenser. Spenser matriculates at Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. |
|
1570 |
Excommunication of Elizabeth I. |
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1572 |
Massacre of St Bartholomew’s Day in France. |
|
1573 |
Spenser graduates BA. |
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1576 |
Spenser proceeds MA. |
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1578 |
Spenser acts as secretary to John Young, Bishop of Rochester. |
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1579 |
Publication of The Shepheardes Calender. Spenser is believed to have wed his first wife, Maccabaeus Chylde on 27 October. Outbreak of the Desmond Rebellion in Munster. |
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1580 |
Publication of the Spenser–Harvey Letters. Spenser travels to Ireland as secretary to Lord Arthur Grey, the newly appointed Lord Deputy. Massacre of foreign mercenaries at Smerwick. |
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1581 |
Publication of the second quarto of The Shepheardes Calender. Famine in Munster. |
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1582 |
Lord Grey is recalled to England. |
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1583 |
Death of the Earl of Desmond. |
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1585 |
The Earl of Leicester campaigns in the Low Countries. |
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1586 |
Publication of the third quarto of The Shepheardes Calender. Death of Sir Philip Sidney at Zutphen. |
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1587 |
Execution of Mary Queen of Scots. |
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1588 |
Defeat of the Spanish Armada. Death of the Earl of Leicester. |
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1589 |
Spenser travels to England with Sir Walter Ralegh in October. Accession of Henry IV of France. |
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1590 |
Publication of The Faerie Queene, I–III. Spenser receives the royal grant of his estate at Kilcolman. |
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1591 |
Publication of Complaints, Daphnaïda and the fourth quarto of The Shepheardes Calender. Spenser is granted an annual pension of fifty pounds. He returns to Ireland. |
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1593 |
Henry IV of France converts to Roman Catholicism. |
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1594 |
Spenser marries Elizabeth Boyle on 11 June. Beginning of the Nine Years’ War in Ireland. |
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1595 |
Publication of Colin Clovts Come Home Againe (with Astrophel) and Amoretti and Epithalamion. |
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1596 |
Publication of The Faerie Queene, IV–VI with the second edition of Books I–III. The work is banned in Scotland by James VI. Publication of Fowre Hymnes with the second edition of Daphnaïda. Publication of Prothalamion. |
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1597 |
Publication of the fifth quarto of The Shepheardes Calender. |
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1598 |
A Vewe of the Present State of Ireland is entered in the Stationers’ Register. Kilcolman is sacked by Celtic forces. Spenser travels to London. |
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1599 |
Death of Spenser in London on 13 January. |
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1601 |
The Earl of Tyrone is defeated at the Battle of Kinsale. Execution of the Earl of Essex. |
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1603 |
Death of Elizabeth I. Accession of James I. |
|
1607 |
The Flight of the Earls breaks Celtic power in Ulster. |
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1609 |
Publication of the first folio of The Faerie Queene containing the ‘Mutabilitie Cantos’. The Plantation of Ulster begins. |
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1611 |
Publication of the first folio of Spenser’s Works. |
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1617 |
Publication of the second folio of Spenser’s Works. |
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1620 |
Monument erected to Spenser in Westminster Abbey by Anne Clifford, Countess of Dorset. |
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1633 |
Publication of A Vewe of the Present State of Ireland. |
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1679 |
Publication of the third folio of Spenser’s Works. |
Spenser is most commonly celebrated as the author of The Faerie Queene yet had he written nothing other than the works collected in the present volume he would still rank amongst the foremost of English poets. His shorter poems are arguably as essential to the comprehension of his epic verse as are the Eclogues and Georgics to Virgil’s Aeneid but, like their Virgilian counterparts, their primary importance lies in their intrinsic literary merit. They are no mere adjuncts to the epic project but integral components of a wider canon which acknowledges and explores both the strengths and limitations of the heroic outlook. Read in conjunction with, rather than in subordination to, The Faerie Queene they reveal the intellectual range and aesthetic diversity of a singularly complex and frequently dichotomous world view. To an even greater extent than the epic poetry they demonstrate Spenser’s generic and stylistic versatility, his remarkable linguistic virtuosity and mastery of complex metrical forms. Here he adopted the conflicting, if oddly complementary, personae of satirist and eulogist, elegist and lover, polemicist and prophet and, in the process, radically transformed the classical and medieval genres he employed. The impact upon succeeding generations of poets from Shakespeare to Yeats was tremendous. Originality, bred by tradition, fostered the renewal of tradition. Long before the term ‘Spenserian’ passed into common critical usage the concept was well understood and the practice widely imitated.
The publication of The Shepheardes Calender in 1579 marked a crucial turning point in English literary history. The ‘new Poete’ introduced to, and concealed from, the reading public, by the mysterious ‘E. K.’ – a literary agent too ideal to be other than fictitious – issued a manifesto for a new poetics premised upon an aggressive confidence in the English language, ‘which truely of it self is both ful enough for prose and stately enough for verse’. By appropriating to his yet anonymous cause the illustrious names of Virgil and Chaucer, he nominated himself as their successor, arrogantly proclaiming his talent even as he pretended to disclaim ‘vaunted titles’ and ‘glorious showes’. For the contemporary reader the shock of the new entailed a startling accommodation with the old. The Calender’s archaic diction articulated its claims to kinship with Chaucer by lending ‘great grace, and as one would say, auctoritie to the verse’. On behalf of the nation the new poet ‘hath laboured to restore, as to theyr rightfull heritage such good and naturall English words, as haue ben long time out of vse and almost cleare disherited’. The matter was politically charged: at a time when ‘fayre Elisa’, the Queen whose unsullied virginity had come to symbolize the country’s territorial and spiritual integrity, was preparing to wed the ‘alien’, Catholic and French-speaking Duc d’Alençon, the preface assailed those ‘whose first shame is, that they are not ashamed, in their own mother tonge straungers to be counted and alienes’. ‘Why a Gods name’, Spenser asked the following year, ‘may not we… haue the kingdome of our owne Language?’ (cf. Prose, 16). From the outset linguistic and political sovereignty go hand in hand, and the political import of the Calender is most potently conveyed through the assurance of its wordplay. To write good English verse was to assert true English identity, to oppose the linguistic miscegenation of those who ‘made our English tongue, a gallimaufray or hodgepodge of al other speches’. The play on ‘gall’ in ‘gallimaufray’ is a shrewd hit for as The Faerie Queene reminds us ‘old Gall… now is cleeped France’ (4. 11. 16). Apropos the French match we learn that, ‘Of Hony and of Gaule in loue there is store: / The Honye is much, but the Gaule is more’ (March, 122–3). Never had mere orthography been so politically loaded; Elizabeth’s ‘Gaule’ was England’s ‘gall’ and the ‘natural speach’ of all true Englishmen, ‘which together with their Nources milk they sucked’, proclaimed its antipathy to the proposed misalliance.
The Shepheardes Calender serves not merely as a precursor to The Faerie Queene but as a pre-emptive strike in defence of the beleaguered ‘faery’ mythology, which would later inform it. For this reason Spenserian pastoral is confrontational rather than escapist and more inclined to chart the landscape of wish-frustration than that of wish-fulfilment. As the ‘envoy’ indicates, the poetry is acutely responsive to the ‘ieopardee’ of the moment and draws nervous energy from the sense of peril. Just a few months previously John Stubbs had lost his right hand for penning the notorious anti-Alençon tract, The Discoverie of a Gaping Gulf Whereinto England is like to be Swallowed (1579). His printer was Hugh Singleton, the printer of the Calender, and Spenser took a considerable risk in echoing Stubbs’s condemnation of those who ‘gape for greedie governaunce / And match them selfe with mighty potentates’ (Februarie, 121–2). The overt target is the pride of worldly prelates but the play on ‘match’, in such close conjunction with the Stubbsian ‘gape’, is unmistakable. Even in the Aprill eclogue, at the height of apparently seamless panegyric, the choice of Virgilian emblems pulls the ragged threads of discontent: ‘O quam te memorem virgo? / O dea certe’. In the first book of the Aeneid Venus appears to her son disguised as a nymph of Diana. Both he, and the epic’s subsequent Christian interpreters, are puzzled by her identity: does she represent chastity, or licence disguised as chastity? Is she really a virgin (virgo) or a goddess (dea) ? Should the first emblem be translated as ‘what shall I call you, maiden?’ or ‘shall I call you maiden?’: the ‘vision’ is strongest at the point at which it threatens, like Virgil’s Venus, to evaporate into thin air. The ‘pastoral of power’ feeds upon the anxieties of impotence.
In the aptly entitled collection of Complaints published in 1591 vision and satire coalesce. That the volume should have appeared shortly after the first instalment of The Faerie Queene should occasion little surprise since it illustrates the adverse circumstances in which Spenser’s more idealized aspirations struggle for survival. The label of ‘court’ poet so often attached to him is grossly misleading for, as Colin Clouts Come Home Againe (1595) powerfully demonstrates, he was more of an outsider than a laureate. Consigned to the ‘waste’ landscape of Elizabethan Ireland with its ‘griesly famine’ and ‘outlawes fell’ (314–19), he wrote from the margins not the centre. While Virgil is frequently invoked as the model for his career, the despondent ghost of Ovid, driven into exile by Virgil’s imperial patron, echoes in the subtextual background. Colin’s voyage from Ireland to England is ironically replete with echoes of Ovid’s Tristia thereby enforcing the ambiguity of the poem’s title. Like Ovid, Spenser seldom played safe. The Shepheardes Calender risked prosecution, Mother Hubberds Tale was called in, the first instalment of The Faerie Queene gave offence to Lord Burghley, and the second was banned in Scotland by James VI. Spenser’s famous assertions of epic weariness, so publicly canvassed in the Amoretti (sonnets 33 and 80), gesture towards the most poignant Ovidian expression of despair: ‘think not all my work is trivial; oft have I set grand sails upon my bark. Six books of Fasti and as many more have I written… This work did I recently compose Caesar, under thy name, dedicated to thee, but my fate has broken it off’ (Tristia, 2. 547–52). Whereas Ovid suggests that all twelve books have at least been drafted, Spenser indefinitely defers the great project in honour of his ‘dear dred’ – an oxymoron which perfectly conveys the ambivalence of his attitude towards one of the primary sources of his inspiration.
In Colin Clouts Come Home Againe as in The Shepheardes Calender amorous complaint encodes political discontent. Both works, like most of the Spenserian canon, are relentlessly dialectical and self-reflexive. In the Calender even Colin’s monologues give vent to the frustrated dialogues of a divided self, reflecting the persona’s own divided genesis in the garrulous, aggressive Colyn Cloute of John Skelton’s court satires and the pensive, elegiac Colin of Clément Marot’s plaintive pastorals. Writing his Observations on the Faerie Queene in 1754 Thomas Warton perceptively devoted a whole chapter to the unusual subject of ‘Spenser’s Imitations of Himself’ in the belief that it would help to illustrate ‘how variously he expresses the same thought’. But, as Warton himself demonstrates, the ‘thought’ is never quite the ‘same’. The Spenserian imagination is obsessively dialogical, constantly interrogating, revising and redacting its material in a diversity of contexts, genres and styles. And yet, the very strategies which appear to offer an escape from solipsism often serve to compound it. E.K.’s identification of Spenser with Colin Clout, ‘vnder which name this Poete secretly shadoweth himself’, is richly disingenuous, designed to make the unwary forget that Spenser created, and speaks through, all of the Calender’s other personae, that he engineered all of their conflicts and disagreements, that he shunned dialectical closure in his pastoral verse as thoroughly as he avoided narrative closure in his epic – or, for that matter, emotional closure in his love poetry. The Amoretti, for example, is distinguished from other sonnet sequences by the repetition of sonnet 35 as sonnet 83 – an astonishingly bold act of self-quotation which also serves as a trenchant act of self-revision. That it should be this sonnet and no other that is repeated is crucial: its subject is Narcissus and the repetition enacts the obsession. Self-quotation articulates, and effectively ironizes, self-love. The lady’s eyes which ideally serve as a window to her soul may become no more than ‘the myrrour’ of the speaker’s ‘mazed hart’ (sonnet 7). They may function as an avenue to emotional communion or an encouragement to solipsism. The delicate negotiation between two discrete selves, with which love is properly concerned, risks the imprisonment of both parties in their own self-images:
Leaue lady in your glasse of christall clene,
Your goodly selfe for euermore to vew:
and in my selfe, my inward selfe I meane,
most liuely lyke behold your semblant trew.
(Amoretti, sonnet 45)
The delicious paradox of ‘semblant trew’ encapsulates the psychological problem about which the Amoretti is constructed: the relation of image and self-image to reality, and the relevance, if any, of Plato’s ‘fayre Idea’ of love to the selfish, and self-consuming, hunger of appetite. The lover’s eyes are ‘hungry eyes’ and desire for another, bred in the ‘inner part’, consumes the self:
Vnquiet thought, whom at the first I bred,
Of th’inward bale of my loue pined hart:
and sithens haue with sighes and sorrowes fed,
till greater then my wombe thou woxen art.
Breake forth at length out of the inner part,
in which thou lurkest lyke to vipers brood:
and seeke some succour both to ease my smart
and also to sustayne thy selfe with food.
(Amoretti, sonnet 2)
At the heart of Spenserian self-assertion is self-qualification: ‘my selfe, my inward selfe I meane’. The startling imagery of a male ‘wombe’ threatens to confound the sexual distinction upon which the speaker’s desire is premised. The ‘art of eyes’ which he is called upon to master is also the art of conflicting egos (sonnet 21). Spenser is acutely aware of the tendency for love poetry to degenerate into the poetry of self-love, just as elegiac verse finds us ‘mourning in others, our owne miseries’ (Dolefull Lay of Clorinda, 96). Hence the inevitable ambiguity of a line such as ‘helpe me mine owne loues prayses to resound’ even in a poem intended to celebrate the mutuality of marriage (Epithalamion, 14). In his comment upon the ‘Emblem’ to the September eclogue of The Shepheardes Calender, E. K. applies Narcissus’ motto ‘Inopem me copia fecit’ (plenty has made me poor) to ‘the author’ – ‘and to suche like effecte, as fyrste Narcissus spake it’. In The Faerie Queene Spenser speaks of reflecting Elizabeth Tudor ‘In mirrours more then one’ so that she may see ‘her selfe’ (3 Proem 5), but this is merely an extension of his preoccupation with anatomizing the whole notion of the ‘selfe’, with reflecting upon the chaotic emotional and intellectual fragmentation subsumed into the first person singular. The hope must be that, as An Hymne in Honovr of Beautie asserts, ‘two mirrours by opposd reflexion, / Doe both expresse the faces first impression’ (181–2), but the very concept of ‘opposd reflexion’ betrays the multiple contradictions involved in the complex phenomenon of self-consciousness, in the desperate anxiety to objectify the subjective and ‘see’ the elusive ‘inward selfe’. As a means to this end narrative personae proliferate in the shorter poems, and images of mirrors and echoes abound. Their close association is highly revealing. In classical mythology Echo was the maiden who died for unrequited love of a morbidly self-reflexive Narcissus: ‘So I vnto my selfe alone will sing, / The woods shall to me answer and my Eccho ring’ (Epithalamion, 17–18).
It has become common to speak of Spenserian ‘self-fashioning’ but his tendency to undermine his self-image by habits of ‘opposd reflexion’, or to multiply conflicting self-images ‘in mirrours more then one’, has been relatively neglected. Far more is involved in such manoeuvres than a courtly game of hide-and-seek. Even such a practical matter as the pursuit of a patron, one of the dominant concerns of the shorter poems, entails scrutiny of the speaker’s fantastical alter egos which are constructed and deconstructed in ‘expectation vayne / Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away, / Like empty shaddowes’ (Prothalamion, 7–9). As Virgilian confidence struggles with Ovidian despair, the public poet often retreats, or represents himself as retreating, into the private man: ‘I play to please my selfe, all be it ill’ (June, 72). But this is a sentiment intended for publication and is ‘spoken’ not by Spenser but by Colin Clout. Though persistently auto-referential, the Spenserian ‘I’ is never truly autobiographical. Autobiography is the condition it never quite attains, auto-fabrication the condition it never quite escapes.
In works such as The Shepheardes Calender and Colin Clouts Come Home Againe images of circularity abound, pitting ideals of fulfilment against experiences of entrapment. And it is not only the speaker who is entrapped but also the objects of his attention. Mother Hubberds Tale was called in upon its publication in 1591 even though it is likely that large parts of it had been written some dozen years earlier. But this is the Elizabethan equivalent of Animal Farm and Spenser’s analysis of the contemporary malaise proceeds beyond specific personalities to the very power structures of the Elizabethan regime. The sovereign lioness rejoices to see her favourite ‘beast’ romping about ‘enchaste with chaine and circulet of golde… buxome to his bands’, yet she is offended by the ‘late chayne’ which has been laid about his neck. She would have him both ‘wilde’ and ‘tame’ simultaneously, wholly bound to her yet somehow also ‘free’ (624–30). Depending on the dating of the passage, the allusion may refer either to the Earl of Leicester’s clandestine marriage to Lettice Knollys (1578) or to the Earl of Essex’s clandestine marriage to Frances Walsingham (1590). On the deepest level, however, it matters little which we choose. Because of her unmarried state Elizabeth (whose personal motto was ‘semper eadem’, always the same) was fated to recurrent disappointments of this nature, and the political dynamics of the Elizabethan court, vulnerable as they were to the emotional vicissitudes of fruitless courtship, were correspondingly unstable. What the poem exposes is not an isolated incident but an endemic condition, a vicious circle of sexual jealousy and political disarray.
Given the force of such preoccupations, it is hardly surprising that the shorter poems so often gesture towards spiritual transcendence as a means of escape from the world’s prevailing ‘vanitie’. The Fowre Hymnes (1596) conclude with what might well be interpreted as a programme for the redemption of Narcissus:
Ah then my hungry soule, which long hast fed
On idle fancies of thy foolish thought,
And with false beauties flattring bait misled,
Hast after vaine deceiptfull shadowes sought,
Which all are fled, and now haue left thee nought,
But late repentance through thy follies prief;
Ah ceasse to gaze on matter of thy grief.
(An Hymne of Heavenly Beautie, 288–94)
The object may have changed but the ‘hunger’ survives. But has the object actually changed? Or, as the persistence of mirror imagery suggests, is the object still the subject? Is the love of God any less self-referential than the love of woman? The structure of the Fowre Hymnes is rigorously dialectical and the relationship between ‘earthly’ and ‘heauenly’ love cannot be explained solely, or even principally, in terms of ascent or renunciation. The process, as Spenser tells us, is not one of recantation but of ‘retractation’, a complex operation of revision or redaction. The two ‘earthly’ hymns are not suppressed but republished, like Amoretti’s repeated sonnet, in a new context. The structure of the volume expands to embrace, rather than to deny, its internal contradictions. Evident throughout the ‘heavenly’ pair is the struggle to sublimate earthly desire, a hallowing of Eros which inevitably entails a sexualizing of Agape. Even the God of the heavenly hymns, constructed in the image of the earthly speaker’s ‘hungry’ desire, is a divine Narcissist who created man:
In whom he might his mightie selfe behould:
For loue doth loue the thing belou’d to see,
That like it selfe in louely shape may bee.
(An Hymne of Heavenly Love, 117–19)
God sees himself in creation and creation strives to glimpse his image by gazing upon reflections of itself. ‘Rest’ may be the word upon which the hymns close, but the poetry thrives upon the disquietude of complex metaphysical thought.
However fervent his aspirations towards perfection and stability, Spenser’s imagination was complicit with the depredations of time, with emotional dislocation, with exile, and ultimately with the ‘vanitie’ he castigates. His music draws strength from the breaking of Colin’s pipe, from the fall of Rome, the fate of butterflies and from the very corruption of Eliza’s court. Even in the Epithalamion, a rare poem of consummated desire, the speaker’s Orphic power is deliberately offset by darker resonances and echoes. The abrupt ending may even suggest that personal fulfilment entails poetic loss. E. K. divides the eclogues of The Shepheardes Calender into three distinct groups, the ‘plaintiue’, the ‘recreatiue’ and the ‘moral’, but the work itself challenges such distinctions. Plaintive ‘undersongs’ resound in recreative verse, moral issues intrude into matters of love, and a disturbingly ‘doolful pleasaunce’ is derived even from elegy. All of the ‘mirrours’ are carefully angled to enhance the most provocative effects of ‘opposd reflexion’. The biographer’s loss is the reader’s gain.
The present edition contains all of Spenser’s shorter poetry including the important Latin verse which appeared in the Spenser-Harvey correspondence of 1580. A full translation from the Latin is supplied in the commentary. The various works are arranged in the chronological order of publication thereby affording the reader a clear overview of Spenser’s public career. As the headnotes point out, however, exact dates of composition are notoriously hard to determine and it is essential to bear this in mind when considering the issue of Spenser’s artistic development. The volume of Complaints published in 1591, for example, contains revisions of material that first appeared as early as 1569. The commentary is designed to alert the reader to problems such as these while at the same time facilitating immediate comprehension of difficult passages or terms. Because Spenser is such an aggressively inter-textual writer, freely adapting, and occasionally subverting, classical, biblical and contemporary materials, I have endeavoured to supply concise references to all of the most important sources and analogues. Comparison between such passages and the Spenserian texts will generally be found to throw considerable light upon the character of Spenser’s poetic craft and intellectual outlook. The headnotes are designed to examine some of the more general problems of interpretation arising from particular works, or collections of works, and to suggest various avenues of critical approach.
As will be evident to those familiar with the history of Spenserian annotation, the commentary to the present edition is heavily reliant upon a wide range of scholarly authorities. So immensely rich is the editorial tradition that my contribution necessarily falls far short of my indebtedness, but this is very much in the nature of an exercise which seeks to consolidate past gains by a process of compilation, selection and synthesis. To edit Spenser is also to edit his editors. I acknowledge my obligations with gratitude; my errors are doubtless original. For the glossing of common nouns my single greatest debt is to the OED, valuably supplemented by C. G. Osgood, A Concordance to Spenser (1915). For classical allusions my principal sources are Natalis Comes, Mythologiae (1567), H. G. Lotspeich, Classical Mythology in the Poetry of Edmund Spenser (1942), N. G. L. Hammond and H. H. Scullard (eds.), The Oxford Classical Dictionary (1970) and Pierre Grimal, The Dictionary of Classical Mythology (1986). For plants and herbs I have drawn upon John Gerard, The Herbal or General Historie of Plantes (1597) and Nicholas Culpeper, The Complete Herbal (1653). For political, historical and miscellaneous allusions (particularly in Complaints) my work is greatly indebted, as are all recent editions of Spenser, to the editors of The Works of Edmund Spenser. A Variorum Edition (1932–58). Classical sources have generally been cited from the relevant Loeb editions, and Shakespeare’s works from the Arden editions. The Bible has been consulted in both the Genevan and King James’s versions.
Severe restrictions of space generally preclude the recording of specific attributions in the course of the commentary, but I have drawn with profit upon all of the following sources (listed in chronological order): John Jortin, Remarks on Spenser’s Poems (1734); Thomas Warton, Observations on the Faerie Queene of Spenser (1754); the collected editions of Spenser’s Works by H. J. Todd (1805); F. J. Child (1864) and A. B. Grosart (1882–4); C. H. Herford (ed.), The Shepheards Calendar (1895); L. Winstanley (ed.), The Fowre Hymnes (1907); F. I. Carpenter, A Reference Guide to Edmund Spenser (1923); W. L. Renwick (ed.), Complaints (1928), Daphnaïda and Other Poems (1929) and The Shepheardes Calender (1930); H. S. V. Jones, A Spenser Handbook (1930); F. R. Johnson, A Critical Bibliography of the Works of Edmund Spenser Printed before 1700 (1933); E. Welsford, Spenser: ‘Fowre Hymnes’, ‘Epithalamion’: A Study of Edmund Spenser’s Doctrine of Love (1967); C. G. Smith, Spenser’s Proverb Lore (1970); A. C. Hamilton (ed.), The Faerie Queene (1977); T. P. Roche, Jr (ed.), The Faerie Queene (Penguin English Poets, 1978); W. A. Oram, E. Bjorvand, R. Bond, T. H. Cain, A. Dunlop and R. Schell (eds.), The Yale Edition of the Shorter Poems of Edmund Spenser (1989); A. C. Hamilton et al. (eds.), The Spenser Encyclopedia (1990); H. Maclean and A. L. Prescott (eds.), Edmund Spenser’s Poetry (3rd edn, 1993); D. Brooks-Davies (ed.), Edmund Spenser: Selected Shorter Poems (1995). I am also immensely grateful to the following scholars for their generous assistance with particular problems of interpretation: Mr Thomas Braun, Dr Susie Clark, Mr Sam Eidinow, Dr Steve Gunn, Dr Nicholas Richardson and Mr Colin Wilcockson.


[1]
Being one day at my window all alone, | |
So many strange things hapned me to see, | |
As much it grieueth me to thinke thereon. | |
At my right hande, a Hinde appearde to me, | |
5 | So faire as mought the greatest God delite: |
Two egre Dogs dyd hir pursue in chace, | |
Of whiche the one was black, the other white. | |
With deadly force so in their cruell race | |
They pinchte the haunches of this gentle beast, | |
10 |
That at the last, and in shorte time, I spied, |
Vnder a rocke, where she (alas) opprest, | |
Fell to the grounde, and there vntimely dide. | |
Cruell death vanquishing so noble beautie, | |
Oft makes me waile so harde a destinie. |

[2]
After at Sea a tall Ship dyd appere, | |
Made all of Heben and white Iuorie, | |
The sailes of Golde, of Silke the tackle were: | |
Milde was the winde, calme seemed the sea to be: | |
5 | The Skie eche where did shew full bright and faire. |
With riche treasures this gay ship fraighted was. | |
But sodaine storme did so turmoyle the aire, | |
And tombled vp the sea, that she, alas, | |
Strake on a rocke that vnder water lay. | |
10 | O great misfortune, O great griefe, I say, |
Thus in one moment to see lost and drownde | |
So great riches, as lyke can not be founde. |

[3]
Then heauenly branches did I see arise, | |
Out of a fresh and lusty Laurell tree | |
Amidde the yong grene wood. Of Paradise | |
Some noble plant I thought my selfe to see, | |
5 | Suche store of birdes therein yshrouded were, |
Chaunting in shade their sundry melodie. | |
My sprites were rauisht with these pleasures there. | |
While on this Laurell fixed was mine eye, | |
The Skie gan euery where to ouercast, | |
10 | And darkned was the welkin all aboute, |
When sodaine flash of heauens fire outbrast, | |
And rent this royall tree quite by the roote. | |
Which makes me much and euer to complaine, | |
For no such shadow shal be had againe. |

[4]
Within this wood, out of the rocke did rise | |
A Spring of water mildely romblyng downe, | |
Whereto approched not in any wise | |
The homely Shepherde, nor the ruder cloune, | |
5 | But many Muses, and the Nymphes withall, |
That sweetely in accorde did tune their voice | |
Vnto the gentle sounding of the waters fall. | |
The sight wherof dyd make my heart reioyce. | |
But while I toke herein my chiefe delight, | |
10 | I sawe (alas) the gaping earth deuoure |
The Spring, the place, and all cleane out of sight. | |
Whiche yet agreues my heart euen to this houre. |

[5]
I saw a Phoenix in the wood alone, | |
With purple wings and crest of golden hew, | |
Straunge birde he was, wherby I thought anone, | |
That of some heauenly wight I had the vew: | |
5 | Vntill he came vnto the broken tree |
And to the spring that late deuoured was. | |
What say I more? Eche thing at length we see | |
Doth passe away: the Phœnix there, alas, | |
Spying the tree destroyde, the water dride, | |
10 | Himselfe smote with his beake, as in disdaine, |
And so forthwith in great despite he dide. | |
For pitie and loue my heart yet burnes in paine. |

[6]
At last so faire a Ladie did I spie, | |
That in thinking on hir I burne and quake, | |
On herbes and floures she walked pensiuely. | |
Milde, but yet loue she proudely did forsake. | |
5 | White seemed hir robes, yet wouen so they were, |
As snowe and golde together had bene wrought. | |
Aboue the waste a darke cloude shrouded hir, | |
A stinging Serpent by the heele hir caught, | |
Wherewith she languisht as the gathered floure: | |
10 | And well assurde she mounted vp to ioy. |
Alas in earth so nothing doth endure | |
But bitter griefe that dothe our hearts anoy. |
[7]
My Song thus now in thy Conclusions, | |
Say boldly that these same six visions | |
Do yelde vnto thy lorde a sweete request, | |
Ere it be long within the earth to rest. |
[1]
It was the time when rest the gift of Gods | |
Sweetely sliding into the eyes of men, | |
Doth drowne in the forgetfulnesse of slepe, | |
The carefull trauailes of the painefull day: | |
5 | Then did a ghost appeare before mine eyes |
On that great riuers banke that runnes by Rome, | |
And calling me then by my propre name, | |
He bade me vpwarde vnto heauen looke. | |
He cride to me, and loe (quod he) beholde, | |
10 | What vnder this great Temple is containde, |
Loe all is nought but flying vanitie. | |
So I knowing the worldes vnstedfastnesse, | |
Sith onely God surmountes the force of tyme, | |
In God alone do stay my confidence. |

[2]
On hill, a frame an hundred cubites hie | |
I sawe, an hundred pillers eke about, | |
All of fine Diamant decking the front, | |
And fashiond were they all in Dorike wise. | |
5 | Of bricke, ne yet of marble was the wall, |
But shining Christall, which from top to base | |
Out of deepe vaute threw forth a thousand rayes | |
Vpon an hundred steps of purest golde. | |
Golde was the parget: and the sielyng eke | |
10 | Did shine all scaly with fine golden plates. |
The floore was Iaspis, and of Emeraude. | |
O worldes vainenesse. A sodein earthquake loe, | |
Shaking the hill euen from the bottome deepe, | |
Threwe downe this building to the lowest stone. |

[3]
Then did appeare to me a sharped spire | |
Of diamant, ten feete eche way in square, | |
Iustly proportionde vp vnto his height, | |
So hie as mought an Archer reache with sight. | |
5 | Vpon the top therof was set a pot |
Made of the mettall that we honour most. | |
And in this golden vessell couched were | |
The ashes of a mightie Emperour. | |
Vpon foure corners of the base there lay | |
10 | To beare the frame, foure great Lions of golde. |
A worthie tombe for such a worthie corps. | |
Alas, nought in this worlde but griefe endures. | |
A sodaine tempest from the heauen, I saw, | |
With flushe stroke downe this noble monument. |

[4]
I saw raisde vp on pillers of Iuorie, | |
Whereof the bases were of richest golde, | |
The chapters Alabaster, Christall frises, | |
The double front of a triumphall arke. | |
5 | On eche side portraide was a victorie. |
With golden wings in habite of a Nymph. | |
And set on hie vpon triumphing chaire, | |
The auncient glorie of the Romane lordes. | |
The worke did shewe it selfe not wrought by man, | |
10 | But rather made by his owne skilfull hande |
That forgeth thunder dartes for Ioue his sire. | |
Let me no more see faire thing vnder heauen, | |
Sith I haue seene so faire a thing as this, | |
With sodaine falling broken all to dust. |

[5]
Then I behelde the faire Dodonian tree, | |
Vpon seuen hilles throw forth his gladsome shade, | |
And Conquerers bedecked with his leaues | |
Along the bankes of the Italian streame. | |
5 | There many auncient Trophees were erect, |
Many a spoile, and many goodly signes, | |
To shewe the greatnesse of the stately race, | |
That erst descended from the Troian bloud. | |
Rauisht I was to see so rare a thing, | |
10 | When barbarous villaines in disordred heape, |
Outraged the honour of these noble bowes. | |
I hearde the tronke to grone vnder the wedge. | |
And since I saw the roote in hie disdaine | |
Sende forth againe a twinne of forked trees. |

[6]
I saw the birde that dares beholde the Sunne, | |
With feeble flight venture to mount to heauen, | |
By more and more she gan to trust hir wings, | |
Still folowing th’example of hir damme: | |
5 | I saw hir rise, and with a larger flight |
Surmount the toppes euen of the hiest hilles, | |
And pierce the cloudes, and with hir wings to reache | |
The place where is the temple of the Gods, | |
There was she lost, and sodenly I saw | |
10 | Where tombling through the aire in lompe of fire, |
All flaming downe she fell vpon the plaine. | |
I saw hir bodie turned all to dust, | |
And saw the foule that shunnes the cherefull light | |
Out of hir ashes as a worme arise. |

[7]
Then all astonned with this nightly ghost, | |
I saw an hideous body big and strong, | |
Long was his beard, and side did hang his hair, | |
A grisly forehed and Saturnelike face. | |
5 | Leaning against the belly of a pot |
He shed a water, whose outgushing streame | |
Ran flowing all along the creekie shoare | |
Where once the Troyan Duke with Turnus fought. | |
And at his feete a bitch Wolfe did giue sucke | |
10 | To two yong babes. In his right hand he bare |
The tree of peace, in left the conquering Palme, | |
His head was garnisht with the Laurel bow. | |
Then sodenly the Palme and Oliue fell, | |
And faire greene Laurel witherd vp and dide. |

[8]
Hard by a riuers side, a wailing Nimphe, | |
Folding hir armes with thousand sighs to heauen | |
Did tune hir plaint to falling riuers sound, | |
Renting hir faire visage and golden haire, | |
5 | Where is (quod she) this whilome honored face? |
Where is thy glory and the auncient praise, | |
Where all worldes hap was reposed, | |
When erst of Gods and man I worshipt was? | |
Alas, suffisde it not that ciuile bate | |
10 | Made me the spoile and bootie of the world, |
But this new Hydra mete to be assailde | |
Euen by an hundred such as Hercules, | |
With seuen springing heds of monstrous crimes, | |
So many Neroes and Caligulaes | |
15 | Must still bring forth to rule this croked shore. |

[9]
Vpon a hill I saw a kindled flame, | |
Mounting like waues with triple point to heauen, | |
Which of incense of precious Ceder tree | |
With Balmelike odor did perfume the aire. | |
5 | A bird all white, well fetherd on hir winges |
Hereout did flie vp to the throne of Gods, | |
And singing with most plesant melodie | |
She climbed vp to heauen in the smoke. | |
Of this faire fire the faire dispersed rayes | |
10 | Threw forth abrode a thousand shining leames, |
When sodain dropping of a golden shoure | |
Gan quench the glystering flame. O greuous chaunge! | |
That which erstwhile so pleasaunt scent did yelde, | |
Of Sulphure now did breathe corrupted smel. |

[10]
I saw a fresh spring rise out of a rocke, | |
Clere as Christall against the Sunny beames, | |
The bottome yellow like the shining land, | |
That golden Pactol driues vpon the plaine. | |
5 | It seemed that arte and nature striued to ioyne |
There in one place all pleasures of the eye. | |
There was to heare a noise alluring slepe | |
Of many accordes more swete than Mermaids song, | |
The seates and benches shone as Iuorie, | |
10 | An hundred Nymphes sate side by side about, |
When from nie hilles a naked rout of Faunes | |
With hideous cry assembled on the place, | |
Which with their feete vncleane the water fouled, | |
Threw down the seats, and droue the Nimphs to flight. |

[11]
At length, euen at the time when Morpheus | |
Most truely doth appeare vnto our eyes, | |
Wearie to see th’inconstance of the heauens: | |
I saw the great Typhæus sister come, | |
5 | Hir head full brauely with a morian armed, |
In maiestie she seemde to matche the Gods. | |
And on the shore, harde by a violent streame, | |
She raisde a Trophee ouer all the worlde. | |
An hundred vanquisht kings gronde at hir feete, | |
10 | Their armes in shamefull wise bounde at their backes. |
While I was with so dreadfull sight afrayde, | |
I saw the heauens warre against hir tho, | |
And seing hir striken fall with clap of thunder, | |
With so great noyse I start in sodaine wonder. |

[12]
I saw an vgly beast come from the sea, | |
That seuen heads, ten crounes, ten hornes did beare, | |
Hauing theron the vile blaspheming name. | |
The cruell Leopard she resembled much: | |
5 | Feete of a beare, a Lions throte she had. |
The mightie Dragon gaue to hir his power. | |
One of hir heads yet there I did espie, | |
Still freshly bleeding of a grieuous wounde. | |
One cride aloude. What one is like (quod he) | |
10 | This honoured Dragon, or may him withstande? |
And then came from the sea a sauage beast, | |
With Dragons speche, and shewde his force by fire, | |
With wondrous signes to make all wights adore | |
The beast, in setting of hir image vp. |

[13]
I saw a Woman sitting on a beast | |
Before mine eyes, of Orenge colour hew: | |
Horrour and dreadfull name of blasphemie | |
Filde hir with pride. And seuen heads I saw, | |
5 | Ten hornes also the stately beast did beare. |
She seemde with glorie of the scarlet faire, | |
And with fine perle and golde puft vp in heart. | |
The wine of hooredome in a cup she bare. | |
The name of Mysterie writ in hir face. | |
10 | The bloud of Martyrs dere were hir delite. |
Most fierce and fell this woman seemde to me. | |
An Angell then descending downe from Heauen, | |
With thondring voice cride out aloude, and sayd, | |
Now for a truth great Babylon is fallen. |

[14]
Then might I see vpon a white horse set | |
The faithfull man with flaming countenaunce, | |
His head did shine with crounes set therupon. | |
The worde of God made him a noble name. | |
5 | His precious robe I saw embrued with bloud. |
Then saw I from the heauen on horses white, | |
A puissant armie come the selfe same way. | |
Then cried a shining Angell as me thought, | |
That birdes from aire descending downe on earth | |
10 | Should warre vpon the kings, and eate their flesh. |
Then did I see the beast and Kings also | |
Ioinyng their force to slea the faithfull man. | |
But this fierce hatefull beast and all hir traine, | |
Is pitilesse throwne downe in pit of fire. |

[15]
I saw new Earth, new Heauen, sayde Saint Iohn. | |
And loe, the sea (quod he) is now no more. | |
The holy Citie of the Lorde, from hye | |
Descendeth garnisht as a loued spouse. | |
5 | A voice then sayde, beholde the bright abode |
Of God and men. For he shall be their God, | |
And all their teares he shall wipe cleane away. | |
Hir brightnesse greater was than can be founde, | |
Square was this Citie, and twelue gates it had. | |
10 | Eche gate was of an orient perfect pearle, |
The houses golde, the pauement precious stone. | |
A liuely streame, more cleere than Christall is, | |
Ranne through the mid, sprong from triumphant seat. | |
There growes lifes fruite vnto the Churches good. |
TO HIS BOOKE.
Goe little booke: thy selfe present, | |
As child whose parent is vnkent: | |
To him that is the president | |
Of noblesse and of cheualree, | |
5 | And if that Enuie barke at thee, |
As sure it will, for succoure flee | |
Vnder the shadow of his wing, | |
And asked, who thee forth did bring, | |
A shepheards swaine saye did thee sing, | |
10 | All as his straying flocke he fedde: |
And when his honor has thee redde, | |
Craue pardon for my hardyhedde. | |
But if that any aske thy name, | |
Say thou wert base begot with blame: | |
15 | For thy thereof thou takest shame. |
And when thou art past ieopardee, | |
Come tell me, what was sayd of mee: | |
And I will send more after thee. | |
Immeritô. |