And evermore the shepheard Coridon,
Whatever thing he did her to aggrate,
Did strive to match with strong contention,
And all his paines did closely emulate;
Whether it were to caroll, as they sate
Keeping their sheepe, or games to exercize,
Or to present her with their labours late;
Through which if any grace chaunst to arize
To him, the shepheard straight with iealousie did frize.
One day, as they all three together went
To the greene wood to gather strawberies,
There chaunst to them a dangerous accident;
A tigre forth out of the wood did rise,
That with fell clawes full of fierce gourmandize,
And greedy mouth wide-gaping like hell-gate,
Did runne at Pastorell her to surprize,
Whom she beholding, now all desolate,
Gan cry to them aloud to helpe her all too late.
XXXV.
Which Coridon first hearing ran in hast
To reskue her; but when he saw the feend,
Through cowherd feare he fled away as fast,
Ne durst abide the daunger of the end;
His life he steemed dearer then his frend :
But Calidore soone comming to her ayde,
When he the beast saw readie now to rend
His love's deare spoile, in which his heart was prayde,
He ran at him enraged, instead of being frayde.
He had no weapon but his shepheard's hooke
To serve the vengeaunce of his wrathfull will,
With which so sternely he the monster strooke,
That to the ground astonished he fell;
Whence ere he could recou'r, he did him quell,
Aud hewing off his head, it presented
Before the feete of the faire Pastorell,
Who, scarcely yet from former feare exempted,
A thousand times him thankt that had her death
[prevented.
From that day forth she gan him to affect,
And daily more her favour to augment;
But Coridon for cowherdize reiect,
Fit to keepe sheepe, unfit for love's content;
The gentle heart scornes base disparagement:
Yet Calidore did not despise him quight,
But usde him friendly for further intent,
That by his fellowship he colour might
Both his estate and love from skill of any wight.
XXXVIII.
So well he wood her, and so well he wrought her,
With humble service, and with daily sute,
That at the last unto his will he brought her,
Which he so wisely well did prosecute,
That of his love he reapt the timely frute,
And ioyed long in close felicity;
Till Fortune, fraught with malice blinde and brute, That envies lovers long prosperity,
Blew up a bitter storme of foule adversity.
It fortuned one day, when Calidore
Was hunting in the woods, as was his trade,
A lawlesse people, Brigants hight of yore,
That never usde to live by plough or spade,
But fed on spoile and booty which they made
Upon their neighbours, which did nigh them border,
The dwelling of these shepheards did invade,
And spoyld their houses, and themselves did murder,
And drove away their flocks, with other much disor-
[der.
Amongst the rest the which they then did pray,
They spoyld old Melibee of all he had,
And all his people captive led away,
Mongst which this lucklesse mayd away was lad,
Faire Pastorella! sorrowfull and sad,
Most sorrowfull, most sad, that ever sight,
Now made the spoile of theeves and Brigants bad,
Which was the conquest of the gentlest knight
That ever liv'd, and th' onely glory of his might.
XLI.
With them also was taken Coridon,
And carried captive by those theeves away,
Who in the covert of the night, that none
Mote them descry, nor reskue from their pray,
Unto their dwelling did them close convay :
Their dwelling in a little island was,
Covered with shrubby woods, in which no way
Appeared for people in nor out to pas,
Nor any footing fynde for over-growen gras ;
For underneath the ground their way was made,
Through hollow caves, that no man mote discover
For the thicke shrubs, which did them alwaies shade
From view of living wight, and covered over;
But darknesse dred and daily night did hover
Through all the inner parts wherein they dwelt,
Ne lightned was with window, nor with lover,
But with continuall candle-light, which delt
A doubtfull sense of things, not so well seene as felt.
XLIII.
Hither those Brigants brought their present pray,
And kept them with continuall watch and ward,
Meaning so soone as they convenient may
For slaves to sell them for no small reward
To merchants, which them kept in bondage hard,
Or sold againe. Now, when faire Pastorell
Into this place was brought, and kept with gard
Of griesly theeves, she thought herselfe in hell,
Where with such damned fiends she should in dark-
XLIV.
[nesse dwell.
But for to tell the dolefull dreriment
And pittifull complaints which there she made,
(Where day and night she nought did but lament
Her wretched life, shut up in deadly shade,
And waste her goodly beauty, which did fade
Like to a flowre that feeles no heate of sunne,
Which may her feeble leaves with comfort glade)
And what befell her in that theevish wonne,
Will in an other Canto better be begonne.
The theeves fall out for Pastorell,
Whilest Melibee is slain;
Her Calidore from them redeemes,
And bringeth backe againe.
THE ioyes of love, if they should ever last
Without affliction or disquietnesse,
That worldly chaunces doe amongst them cast,
Would be on earth too great a blessednesse,
Liker to Heaven then mortal wretchednesse;
Therefore the winged god, to let men weet
That here on earth is no sure happinesse,
A thousand sowres hath tempted with one sweet,
To make it seeme more deare and dainty, as is meet.
Like as is now befalne to this faire mayd,
Faire Pastorell! of whom is now my song,
Who being now in dreadfull darknesse layd
Amongst those theeves, which her in bondage strong
Detaynd, yet Fortune not with all this wrong
Contented, greater mischiefe on her threw,
And sorrowes heapt on her in greater throng,
That whoso heares her heavinesse, would rew [hew.
And pitty her sad plight, so chang'd from pleasaunt
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