Edmund Spenser.
THE CAVE OF MAMMON.
Guyon findes Mammon in a delve[1]
Sunning his threasure hore[2];
Is by him tempted, and led downe
To see his secrete store.
As Pilot well expert in perilous wave,
That to a stedfast starre[3] his course hath bent,
When foggy mistes or cloudy tempests have
The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,[4]
And cover'd heaven with hideous dreriment,[5]
Upon his card and compas firmes[6] 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 own vertues and praise-worthie deedes.
So, long he yode,[7] yet no adventure found,
Which fame of her shrill trumpet worthy reedes[8];
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,[9] 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,[10]
His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have been seard
In smythes fire-spitting[11] forge, and nayles like clawes appear.
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[12] and curious mould,
Woven with antickes[13] 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.