At last, the golden orientall gate Of greatest Heaven gan to open fayre; And Phoebus, fresh as brydegrome to his mate, Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie hayre; And hurld his glistring beams through gloomy ayre. Which when the wakeful Elfe perceiv'd, streightway He started up, and did him selfe prepayre In sunbright armes and battailons array; For with that Pagan proud he combat will that day. Ib. c. 5. st. 2. Observe also the exceeding vividness of Spenser's descriptions. They are not, in the true sense of the word, picturesque; but are composed of a wondrous series of images, as in our dreams. Compare the following passage with any thing you may remember 'in pari materia' in Milton or Shakspeare:-- His haughtie helmet, horrid all with gold, Both glorious brightnesse and great terrour bredd For all the crest a dragon did enfold With greedie pawes, and over all did spredd His golden winges; his dreadfull hideous hedd, Close couched on the bever, seemd to throw From flaming mouth bright sparkles fiery redd, That suddeine horrour to faint hartes did show; And scaly tayle was stretcht adowne his back full low. Upon the top of all his loftie crest A bounch of haires discolourd diversly, With sprinkled pearle and gold full richly drest, Did shake, and seemd to daunce for jollitie; Like to an almond tree ymounted hye On top of greene Selinis all alone, With blossoms brave bedecked daintily, Whose tender locks do tremble every one At everie little breath that under heaven is blowne. Ib. c. 7. st. 31-2. 4. You will take especial note of the marvellous independence and true imaginative absence of all particular space or time in the Faery Queene. It is in the domains neither of history or geography; it is ignorant of all artificial boundary, all material obstacles; it is truly in land of Faery, that is, of mental space. The poet has placed you in a dream, a charmed sleep, and you neither wish, nor have the power, to inquire where you are, or how you got there. It reminds me of some lines of my own:-- Oh! would to Alla! The raven or the sea-mew were appointed To bring me food!--or rather that my soul Might draw in life from the universal air! It were a lot divine in some small skiff Along some ocean's boundless solitude To float for ever with a careless course And think myself the only being alive! Remorse, Act iv. sc. 3. Indeed Spenser himself, in the conduct of his great poem, may be represented under the same image, his symbolizing purpose being his mariner's compass:--