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Home  »  The World’s Best Poetry  »  Una and the Lion

Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.

Poems of Fancy: III. Mythical: Mystical: Legendary

Una and the Lion

Edmund Spenser (1552?–1599)

From “The Faërie Queene,” Book I. Canto III.

ONE day, nigh wearie of the yrkesome way,

From her unhastie beast she did alight;

And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay

In secrete shadow, far from all mens sight;

From her fayre head her fillet she undight,

And layd her stole aside. Her angels face,

As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright,

And made a sunshine in the shady place;

Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace.

It fortunèd, out of the thickest wood

A ramping lyon rushèd suddeinly,

Hunting full greedy after salvage blood:

Soone as the royall virgin he did spy,

With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,

To have attonce devoured her tender corse;

But to the pray whenas he drew more ny,

His bloody rage aswagèd with remorse

And, with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse.

Instead thereof, he kist her wearie feet,

And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong

As he her wrongèd innocence did weet.

O how can beautie maister the most strong,

And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!

Whose yielded pryde and proud submission,

Still dreading death, when she had markèd long,

Her hart gan melt in great compassion;

And drizling teares did shed for pure affection.

“The lyon, lord of everie beast in field,”

Quoth she, “his princely puissance doth abate,

And mightie proud to humble weake does yield,

Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late

Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate:—

But he, my lyon, and my noble lord,

How does he find in cruell hart to hate

Her, that him lovd, and ever most adord

As the god of my life? why hath he me abhord?”

Redounding tears did choke th’ end of her plaint,

Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood;

And, sad to see her sorrowfull constraint,

The kingly beast upon her gazing stood;

With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood.

At last, in close hart shutting up her payne,

Arose the virgin borne of heavenly brood,

And to her snowy palfrey got agayne,

To seek her strayèd champion if she might attayne.

The lyon would not leave her desolate,

But with her went along, as a strong gard

Of her chast person, and a faythfull mate

Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard:

Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward;

And, when she wakt, he wayted diligent,

With humble service to her will prepard;

From her fayre eyes he took commandment,

And ever by her lookes conceivèd her intent.