The finest things in Spenser are, the character of Una, in the first
book; the House of Pride; the Cave of Mammon, and the Cave of Despair;
the account of Memory, of whom it is said, among other things,

"The wars he well remember'd of King Nine,
Of old Assaracus and Inachus divine";

the description of Belphoebe; the story of Florimel and the Witch's son;
the Gardens of Adonis, and the Bower of Bliss; the Mask of Cupid; and
Colin Clout's vision, in the last book. But some people will say that
all this may be very fine, but that they cannot understand it on account
of the allegory. They are afraid of the allegory, as if they thought it
would bite them: they look at it as a child looks at a painted dragon,
and think it will strangle them in its shining folds. This is very idle.
If they do not meddle with the allegory, the allegory will not meddle
with them. Without minding it at all, the whole is as plain as a
pike-staff. It might as well be pretended that we cannot see Poussin's
pictures for the allegory, as that the allegory prevents us from
understanding Spenser. For instance, when Britomart, seated amidst the
young warriors, lets fall her hair and discovers her sex, is it
necessary to know the part she plays in the allegory, to understand the
beauty of the following stanza?

"And eke that stranger knight amongst the rest
Was for like need enforc'd to disarray.
Tho when as vailed was her lofty crest,
Her golden locks that were in trammels gay
Upbounden, did themselves adown display,
And raught unto her heels like sunny beams
That in a cloud their light did long time stay;