His blindfold eyes he bade awhile unbind,
That his proud spoil of that same dolorous
Fair dame he might behold in perfect kind;
Which seen, he much rejoiced in his cruel mind.

Of which full proud, himself uprearing high,
He looked round about with stern disdain,
And did survey his goodly company:
And marshalling the evil-ordered train,
With that the darts which his right hand did strain,
Full dreadfully he shook, that all did quake,
And clapt on high his colour'd winges twain,
That all his many it afraid did make:
Tho, blinding him again, his way he forth did take."

The description of Hope, in this series of historical portraits, is one
of the most beautiful in Spenser: and the triumph of Cupid at the
mischief he has made, is worthy of the malicious urchin deity. In
reading these descriptions, one can hardly avoid being reminded of
Rubens's allegorical pictures; but the account of Satyrane taming the
lion's whelps and lugging the bear's cubs along in his arms while yet an
infant, whom his mother so naturally advises to "go seek some other
play-fellows," has even more of this high picturesque character. Nobody
but Rubens could have painted the fancy of Spenser; and he could not
have given the sentiment, the airy dream that hovers over it! With all
this, Spenser neither makes us laugh nor weep. The only jest in his poem
is an allegorical play upon words, where he describes Malbecco as
escaping in the herd of goats, "by the help of his fayre hornes on
hight." But he has been unjustly charged with a want of passion and of
strength. He has both in an immense degree. He has not indeed the pathos