Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Edmund Spenser (1552?–1599). The Complete Poetical Works. 1908.

The Faerie Queene

Book II. The Legend of Sir Guyon. Canto VII

AS pilot well expert in perilous wave,

That to a stedfast starre his course hath bent,

When foggy mistes or cloudy tempests have

The faith full light of that faire lampe yblent,

And cover’d heaven with hideous dreriment,

Upon his card and compas firmes his eye,

The maysters of his long experiment,

And to them does the steddy helme apply,

Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly:

So Guyon, having lost his trustie guyde,

Late left beyond that Ydle Lake, proceedes

Yet on his way, of none accompanyde;

And evermore himselfe with comfort feedes

Of his owne vertues and praise-worthie deedes.

So long he yode, yet no adventure found,

Which Fame of her shrill trompet worthy reedes:

For still he traveild through wide wastfull ground,

That nought but desert wildernesse shewed all around.

At last he came unto a gloomy glade,

Cover’d with boughes and shrubs from heavens light,

Whereas he sitting found in secret shade

An uncouth, salvage, and uncivile wight,

Of griesly hew and fowle ill favour’d sight;

His face with smoke was tand, and eies were bleard,

His head and beard with sout were ill bedight,

His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have ben seard

In smythes fire-spitting forge, and nayles like clawes appeard.

His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust,

Was underneath enveloped with gold,

Whose glistring glosse, darkned with filthy dust,

Well yet appeared to have beene of old

A worke of rich entayle and curious mould,

Woven with antickes and wyld ymagery:

And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,

And turned upside downe, to feede his eye

And covetous desire with his huge threasury.

And round about him lay on every side

Great heapes of gold, that never could be spent:

Of which some were rude owre, not purifide

Of Mulcibers devouring element;

Some others were new driven, and distent

Into great ingowes, and to wedges square;

Some in round plates withouten moniment:

But most were stampt, and in their metal bare

The antique shapes of kings and kesars straung and rare.

Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright

And haste he rose, for to remove aside

Those pretious hils from straungers envious sight,

And downe them poured through an hole full wide

Into the hollow earth, them there to hide.

But Guyon, lightly to him leaping, stayd

His hand, that trembled as one terrifyde;

And though him selfe were at the sight dismayd,

Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull sayd:

‘What art thou, man, (if man at all thou art)

That here in desert hast thine habitaunce,

And these rich heapes of welth doest hide apart

From the worldes eye, and from her right usaunce?’

Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askaunce,

In great disdaine, he answerd: ‘Hardy Elfe,

That darest vew my direfull countenaunce,

I read thee rash and heedlesse of thy selfe,

To trouble my still seate, and heapes of pretious pelfe.

‘God of the world and worldlings I me call,

Great Mammon, greatest god below the skye,

That of my plenty poure out unto all,

And unto none my graces do envye:

Riches, renowme, and principality,

Honour, estate, and all this worldes good,

For which men swinck and sweat incessantly,

Fro me do flow into an ample flood,

And in the hollow earth have their eternall brood.

‘Wherefore, if me thou deigne to serve and sew,

At thy commaund, lo! all these mountaines bee;

Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew,

All these may not suffise, there shall to thee

Ten times so much be nombred francke and free.’

‘Mammon,’ said he, ‘thy godheads vaunt is vaine,

And idle offers of thy golden fee;

To them that covet such eye-glutting gaine

Proffer thy giftes, and fitter servaunts entertaine.

‘Me ill besits, that in derdoing armes

And honours suit my vowed daies do spend,

Unto thy bounteous baytes and pleasing charmes,

With which weake men thou witchest, to attend:

Regard of worldly mucke doth fowly blend

And low abase the high heroicke spright,

That joyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend;

Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes be my delight:

Those be the riches fit for an advent’rous knight.’

‘Vaine glorious Elfe,’ saide he, ‘doest not thou weet,

That money can thy wantes at will supply?

Sheilds, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee meet

It can purvay in twinckling of an eye;

And crownes and kingdomes to thee multiply.

Doe not I kings create, and throw the crowne

Sometimes to him that low in dust doth ly?

And him that raignd into his rowme thrust downe,

And whom I lust do heape with glory and renowne?’

‘All otherwise, saide he, ‘I riches read,

And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse;

First got with guile, and then preserv’d with dread,

And after spent with pride and lavishnesse,

Leaving behind them griefe and heavinesse.

Infinite mischiefes of them doe arize,

Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitternesse,

Outrageous wrong and hellish covetize,

That noble heart, as great dishonour, doth despize.

‘Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine;

But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound,

And loyall truth to treason doest incline:

Witnesse the guiltlesse blood pourd oft on ground,

The crowned often slaine, the slayer cround,

The sacred diademe in peeces rent,

And purple robe gored with many a wound;

Castles surprizd, great citties sackt and brent:

So mak’st thou kings, and gaynest wrongfull government.

‘Long were to tell the troublous stormes, that thosse

The private state, and make the life unsweet:

Who swelling sayles in Caspian sea doth crosse,

And in frayle wood on Adrian gulf doth fleet,

Doth not, I weene, so many evils meet.’

Then Mammon, wexing wroth, ‘And why then,’ sayd,

‘Are mortall men so fond and undiscreet,

So evill thing to seeke unto their ayd,

And having not, complaine, and having it, upbrayd?’

‘Indeede,’ quoth he, ‘through fowle intemperaunce,

Frayle men are oft captiv’d to covetise:

But would they thinke, with how small allowaunce

Untroubled nature doth her selfe suffise,

Such superfluities they would despise,

Which with sad cares empeach our native joyes:

At the well head the purest streames arise:

But mucky filth his braunching armes annoyes,

And with uncomely weedes the gentle wave accloyes.

‘The antique world, in his first flowring youth,

Fownd no defect in his Creators grace,

But with glad thankes, and unreproved truth,

The guifts of soveraine bounty did embrace:

Like angels life was then mens happy cace:

But later ages pride, like corn-fed steed,

Abusd her plenty and fat swolne encreace

To all licentious lust, and gan exceed

The measure of her meane, and naturall first need.

‘Then gan a cursed hand the quiet wombe

Of his great grandmother with steele to wound,

And the hid treasures in her sacred tombe

With sacriledge to dig. Therein he fownd

Fountaines of gold and silver to abownd,

Of which the matter of his huge desire

And pompous pride eftsoones he did compownd;

Then avarice gan through his veines inspire

His greedy flames, and kindled life-devouring fire.’

‘Sonne,’ said he then, ‘lett be thy bitter scorne,

And leave the rudenesse of that antique age

To them that liv’d therin in state forlorne.

Thou, that doest live in later times, must wage

Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold engage.

If then thee list my offred grace to use,

Take what thou please of all this surplusage;

If thee list not, leave have thou to refuse:

But thing refused doe not afterward accuse.’

‘Me list not,’ said the Elfin knight, ‘receave

Thing offred, till I know it well be gott;

Ne wote I, but thou didst these goods bereave

From rightfull owner by unrighteous lott,

Or that blood guiltinesse or guile them blott.’

‘Perdy,’ quoth he, ‘yet never eie did vew,

Ne tong did tell, ne hand these handled not;

But safe I have them kept in secret mew

From hevens sight, and powre of al which them poursew.’

‘What secret place,’ quoth he, ‘can safely hold

So huge a masse, and hide from heavens eie?

Or where hast thou thy wonne, that so much gold

Thou canst preserve from wrong and robbery?’

‘Come thou,’ quoth he, ‘and see.’ So by and by,

Through that thick covert he him led, and fownd

A darkesome way, which no man could descry,

That deep descended through the hollow grownd,

And was with dread and horror compassed arownd.

At length they came into a larger space,

That stretcht it selfe into an ample playne,

Through which a beaten broad high way did trace,

That streight did lead to Plutoes griesly rayne:

By that wayes side there sate infernall Payne,

And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife:

The one in hand an yron whip did strayne,

The other brandished a bloody knife,

And both did gnash their teeth, and both did threten life.

On thother side, in one consort, there sate

Cruell Revenge, and rancorous Despight,

Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning Hate;

But gnawing Gealosy, out of their sight

Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight;

And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly,

And found no place, wher safe he shroud him might;

Lamenting Sorrow did in darknes lye;

And Shame his ugly face did hide from living eye.

And over them sad Horror with grim hew

Did alwaies sore, beating his yron wings;

And after him owles and night-ravens flew,

The hatefull messengers of heavy things,

Of death and dolor telling sad tidings;

Whiles sad Celeno, sitting on a clifte,

A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings,

That hart of flint a sonder could have rifte:

Which having ended, after him she flyeth swifte.

All these before the gates of Pluto lay;

By whom they passing, spake unto them nought.

But th’ Elfin knight with wonder all the way

Did feed his eyes, and fild his inner thought,

At last him to a litle dore he brought,

That to the gate of hell, which gaped wide,

Was next adjoyning, ne them parted ought:

Betwixt them both was but a litle stride,

That did the house of Richesse from hell-mouth divide.

Before the dore sat selfe-consuming Care,

Day and night keeping wary watch and ward,

For feare least Force or Fraud should unaware

Breake in, and spoile the treasure there in gard:

Ne would he suffer Sleepe once thetherward

Approch, albe his drowsy den were next;

For next to Death is Sleepe to be compard:

Therefore his house is unto his annext;

Here Sleep, ther Richesse, and helgate them both betwext.

So soone as Mammon there arrivd, the dore

To him did open and affoorded way;

Him followed eke Sir Guyon evermore,

Ne darkenesse him, ne daunger might dismay.

Soone as he entred was, the dore streight way

Did shutt, and from behind it forth there lept

An ugly feend, more fowle then dismall day,

The which with monstrous stalke behind him stept,

And ever as he went, dew watch upon him kept.

Well hoped hee, ere long that hardy guest,

If ever covetous hand, or lustfull eye,

Or lips he layd on thing that likte him best,

Or ever sleepe his eiestrings did untye,

Should be his pray. And therefore still on hye

He over him did hold his cruell clawes,

Threatning with greedy gripe to doe him dye,

And rend in peeces with his ravenous pawes,

If ever he transgrest the fatall Stygian lawes.

That houses forme within was rude and strong,

Lyke an huge cave, hewne out of rocky clifte,

From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong,

Embost with massy gold of glorious guifte,

And with rich metall loaded every rifte,

That heavy ruine they did seeme to threatt;

And over them Arachne high did lifte

Her cunning web, and spred her subtile nett,

Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more black then jett.

Both roofe, and floore, and walls were all of gold,

But overgrowne with dust and old decay,

And hid in darkenes, that none could behold

The hew thereof: for vew of cherefull day

Did never in that house it selfe display,

But a faint shadow of uncertein light;

Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away;

Or as the moone, cloathed with clowdy night,

Does shew to him that walkes in feare and sad affright.

In all that rowme was nothing to be seene,

But huge great yron chests and coffers strong,

All bard with double bends, that none could weene

Them to efforce by violence or wrong:

On every side they placed were along.

But all the grownd with sculs was scattered,

And dead mens bones, which round about were flong;

Whose lives, it seemed, whilome there were shed,

And their vile carcases now left unburied.

They forward passe, ne Guyon yet spoke word,

Till that they came unto an yron dore,

Which to them opened of his owne accord,

And shewd of richesse such exceeding store,

As eie of man did never see before,

Ne ever could within one place be fownd,

Though all the wealth, which is, or was of yore,

Could gathered be through all the world arownd,

And that above were added to that under grownd.

The charge thereof unto a covetous spright

Commaunded was, who thereby did attend,

And warily awaited day and night,

From other covetous feends it to defend,

Who it to rob and ransacke did intend.

Then Mammon, turning to that warriour, said:

‘Loe here the worldes blis! loe here the end,

To which al men doe ayme, rich to be made!

Such grace now to be happy is before thee laid.’

‘Certes,’ sayd he, ‘I n’ill thine offred grace,

Ne to be made so happy doe intend:

Another blis before mine eyes I place,

Another happines, another end.

To them that list, these base regardes I lend:

But I in armes, and in atchievements brave,

Do rather choose my flitting houres to spend,

And to be lord of those that riches have,

Then them to have my selfe, and be their servile sclave.’

Thereat the feend his gnashing teeth did grate,

And griev’d, so long to lacke his greedie pray;

For well he weened that so glorious bayte

Would tempt his guest to take thereof assay:

Had he so doen, he had him snatcht away,

More light then culver in the faulcons fist.

Eternall God thee save from such decay!

But whenas Mammon saw his purpose mist,

Him to entrap unwares another way he wist.

Thence forward he him ledd, and shortly brought

Unto another rowme, whose dore forthright

To him did open, as it had beene taught:

Therein an hundred raunges weren pight,

And hundred fournaces all burning bright:

By every fournace many feendes did byde,

Deformed creatures, horrible in sight;

And every feend his busie paines applyde,

To melt the golden metall, ready to be tryde.

One with great bellowes gathered filling ayre,

And with forst wind the fewell did inflame;

Another did the dying bronds repayre

With yron tongs, and sprinckled ofte the same

With liquid waves, fiers Vulcans rage to tame,

Who, maystring them, renewd his former heat;

Some scumd the drosse, that from the metall came,

Some stird the molten owre with ladles great;

And every one did swincke, and every one did sweat.

But when an earthly wight they present saw,

Glistring in armes and battailous aray,

From their whot work they did themselves withdraw

To wonder at the sight: for, till that day,

They never creature saw, that cam that way.

Their staring eyes, sparckling with fervent fyre,

And ugly shapes did nigh the man dismay,

That, were it not for shame, he would retyre;

Till that him thus bespake their soveraine lord and syre:

‘Behold, thou Faeries sonne, with mortall eye,

That living eye before did never see:

The thing that thou didst crave so earnestly

To weet, whence all the wealth late shewd by mee

Proceeded, lo! now is reveald to thee.

Here is the fountaine of the worldes good:

Now therefore, if thou wilt enriched bee,

Avise thee well, and chaunge thy wilfull mood;

Least thou perhaps hereafter wish, and be withstood.’

‘Suffise it then, thou Money God,’ quoth hee,

‘That all thine ydle offers I refuse.

All that I need I have; what needeth mee

To covet more then I have cause to use?

With such vaine shewes thy worldlinges vyle abuse:

But give me leave to follow mine emprise.’

Mammon was much displeasd, yet no’te he chuse

But beare the rigour of his bold mesprise,

And thence him forward ledd, him further to entise.

He brought him through a darksom narrow strayt,

To a broad gate, all built of beaten gold:

The gate was open, but therein did wayt

A sturdie villein, stryding stiffe and bold,

As if that Highest God defy he would:

In his right hand an yron club he held,

But he himselfe was all of golden mould,

Yet had both life and sence, and well could weld

That cursed weapon, when his cruell foes he queld.

Disdayne he called was, and did disdayne

To be so cald, and who so did him call:

Sterne was his looke, and full of stomacke vayne,

His portaunce terrible, and stature tall,

Far passing th’ hight of men terrestriall,

Like an huge gyant of the Titans race;

That made him scorne all creatures great and small,

And with his pride all others powre deface:

More fitt emongst black fiendes then men to have his place.

Soone as those glitterand armes he did espye,

That with their brightnesse made that darknes light,

His harmefull club he gan to hurtle hye,

And threaten batteill to the Faery knight;

Who likewise gan himselfe to batteill dight,

Till Mammon did his hasty hand withhold,

And counseld him abstaine from perilous fight:

For nothing might abash the villein bold,

Ne mortall steele emperce his miscreated mould.

So having him with reason pacifyde,

And the fiers carle commaunding to forbeare,

He brought him in. The rowme was large and wyde,

As it some gyeld or solemne temple weare:

Many great golden pillours did upbeare

The massy roofe, and riches huge sustayne,

And every pillour decked was full deare

With crownes, and diademes, and titles vaine,

Which mortall princes wore, whiles they on earth did rayne.

A route of people there assembled were,

Of every sort and nation under skye,

Which with great uprore preaced to draw nere

To th’ upper part, where was advaunced hye

A stately siege of soveraine majestye;

And thereon satt a woman gorgeous gay,

And richly cladd in robes of royaltye,

That never earthly prince in such aray

His glory did enhaunce and pompous pryde display.

Her face right wondrous faire did seeme to bee,

That her broad beauties beam great brightnes threw

Through the dim shade, that all men might it see:

Yet was not that same her owne native hew,

But wrought by art and counterfetted shew,

Thereby more lovers unto her to call;

Nath’lesse most hevenly faire in deed and vew

She by creation was, till she did fall;

Thenceforth she sought for helps to cloke her crime withall.

There as in glistring glory she did sitt,

She held a great gold chaine ylincked well,

Whose upper end to highest heven was knitt,

And lower part did reach to lowest hell;

And all that preace did rownd about her swell,

To catchen hold of that long chaine, thereby

To climbe aloft, and others to excell:

That was Ambition, rash desire to sty,

And every linck thereof a step of dignity.

Some thought to raise themselves to high degree

By riches and unrighteous reward;

Some by close shouldring, some by flatteree;

Others through friendes, others for base regard;

And all by wrong waies for themselves prepard.

Those that were up themselves, kept others low,

Those that were low themselves, held others hard,

Ne suffred them to ryse or greater grow,

But every one did strive his fellow downe to throw.

Which whenas Guyon saw, he gan inquire,

What meant that preace about that ladies throne,

And what she was that did so high aspyre.

Him Mammon answered: ‘That goodly one,

Whom all that folke with such contention

Doe flock about, my deare, my daughter is:

Honour and dignitie from her alone

Derived are, and all this worldes blis,

For which ye men doe strive: few gett, but many mis.

‘And fayre Philotime she rightly hight,

The fairest wight that wonneth under skye,

But that this darksom neather world her light

Doth dim with horror and deformity,

Worthie of heven and hye felicitie,

From whence the gods have her for envy thrust:

But sith thou hast found favour in mine eye,

Thy spouse I will her make, if that thou lust,

That she may thee advance for works and merits just.’

‘Gramercy, Mammon,’ said the gentle knight,

‘For so great grace and offred high estate,

But I, that am fraile flesh and earthly wight,

Unworthy match for such immortall mate

My selfe well wote, and mine unequall fate:

And were I not, yet is my trouth yplight,

And love avowd to other lady late,

That to remove the same I have no might:

To chaunge love causelesse is reproch to warlike knight.’

Mammon emmoved was with inward wrath;

Yet, forcing it to fayne, him forth thence ledd,

Through griesly shadowes by a beaten path,

Into a gardin goodly garnished

With hearbs and fruits, whose kinds mote not be redd:

Not such as earth out of her fruitfull woomb

Throwes forth to men, sweet and well savored,

But direfull deadly black, both leafe and bloom,

Fitt to adorne the dead and deck the drery toombe.

There mournfull cypresse grew in greatest store,

And trees of bitter gall, and heben sad,

Dead sleeping poppy, and black hellebore,

Cold coloquintida, and tetra mad,

Mortall samnitis, and cicuta bad,

With which th’ unjust Atheniens made to dy

Wise Socrates, who thereof quaffing glad,

Pourd out his life and last philosophy

To the fayre Critias, his dearest belamy.

The Gardin of Proserpina this hight;

And in the midst thereof a silver seat,

With a thick arber goodly overdight,

In which she often usd from open heat

Her selfe to shroud, and pleasures to entreat.

Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree,

With braunches broad dispredd and body great,

Clothed with leaves, that none the wood mote see,

And loaden all with fruit as thick as it might bee.

Their fruit were golden apples glistring bright,

That goodly was their glory to behold;

On earth like never grew, ne living wight

Like ever saw, but they from hence were sold;

For those, which Hercules with conquest bold

Got from great Atlas daughters, hence began,

And, planted there, did bring forth fruit of gold;

And those with which th’ Eubœan young man wan

Swift Atalanta, when through craft he her out ran.

Here also sprong that goodly golden fruit,

With which Acontius got his lover trew,

Whom he had long time sought with fruitlesse suit:

Here eke that famous golden apple grew,

The which emongst the gods false Ate threw;

For which th’ Idæan ladies disagreed,

Till partiall Paris dempt it Venus dew,

And had of her fayre Helen for his meed,

That many noble Greekes and Trojans made to bleed.

The warlike Elfe much wondred at this tree,

So fayre and great, that shadowed all the ground,

And his broad braunches, laden with rich fee,

Did stretch themselves without the utmost bound

Of this great gardin, compast with a mound:

Which over-hanging, they themselves did steepe

In a blacke flood, which flow’d about it round;

That is the river of Cocytus deepe,

In which full many soules do endlesse wayle and weepe.

Which to behold, he clomb up to the bancke,

And, looking downe, saw many damned wightes,

In those sad waves, which direfull deadly stancke,

Plonged continually of cruell sprightes,

That with their piteous cryes, and yelling shrightes,

They made the further shore resounden wide.

Emongst the rest of those same ruefull sightes,

One cursed creature he by chaunce espide,

That drenched lay full deepe, under the garden side.

Deepe was he drenched to the upmost chin,

Yet gaped still, as coveting to drinke

Of the cold liquour which he waded in,

And stretching forth his hand, did often thinke

To reach the fruit which grew upon the brincke:

But both the fruit from hand, and flood from mouth,

Did fly abacke, and made him vainely swincke:

The whiles he sterv’d with hunger and with drouth,

He daily dyde, yet never throughly dyen couth.

The knight, him seeing labour so in vaine,

Askt who he was, and what he ment thereby:

Who, groning deepe, thus answerd him againe:

‘Most cursed of all creatures under skye,

Lo! Tantalus, I here tormented lye:

Of whom high Jove wont whylome feasted bee,

Lo! here I now for want of food doe dye:

But if that thou be such as I thee see,

Of grace I pray thee, give to eat and drinke to mee.’

‘Nay, nay, thou greedy Tantalus,’ quoth he,

‘Abide the fortune of thy present fate,

And unto all that live in high degree

Ensample be of mind intemperate,

To teach them how to use their present state.’

Then gan the cursed wretch alowd to cry,

Accusing highest Jove and gods ingrate,

And eke blaspheming heaven bitterly,

As authour of unjustice, there to let him dye.

He lookt a litle further, and espyde

Another wretch, whose carcas deepe was drent

Within the river, which the same did hyde:

But both his handes, most filthy feculent,

Above the water were on high extent,

And faynd to wash themselves incessantly;

Yet nothing cleaner were for such intent,

But rather fowler seemed to the eye;

So lost his labour vaine and ydle industry.

The knight, him calling, asked who he was;

Who, lifting up his head, him answerd thus:

‘I Pilate am, the falsest judge, alas!

And most unjust; that, by unrighteous

And wicked doome, to Jewes despiteous

Delivered up the Lord of Life to dye,

And did acquite a murdrer felonous:

The whiles my handes I washt in purity,

The whiles my soule was soyld with fowle iniquity.’

Infinite moe, tormented in like paine,

He there beheld, too long here to be told:

Ne Mammon would there let him long remayne,

For terrour of the tortures manifold,

In which the damned soules he did behold,

But roughly him bespake: ‘Thou fearefull foole,

Why takest not of that same fruite of gold,

Ne sittest downe on that same silver stoole,

To rest thy weary person in the shadow coole?’

All which he did, to do him deadly fall

In frayle intemperaunce through sinfull bayt;

To which if he inclyned had at all,

That dreadfull feend, which did behinde him wayt,

Would him have rent in thousand peeces strayt:

But he was wary wise in all his way,

And well perceived his deceiptfull sleight,

Ne suffred lust his safety to betray;

So goodly did beguile the guyler of his pray.

And now he has so long remained theare,

That vitall powres gan wexe both weake and wan,

For want of food and sleepe, which two upbeare,

Like mightie pillours, this frayle life of man,

That none without the same enduren can.

For now three dayes of men were full outwrought,

Since he this hardy enterprize began:

Forthy great Mammon fayrely he besought,

Into the world to guyde him backe, as he him brought.

The god, though loth, yet was constraynd t’ obay,

For, lenger time then that, no living wight

Below the earth might suffred be to stay:

So backe againe him brought to living light.

But all so soone as his enfeebled spright

Gan sucke this vitall ayre into his brest,

As overcome with too exceeding might,

The life did flit away out of her nest,

And all his sences were with deadly fit opprest.