Calepine by a salvage man
From Turpine reskewed is;
And whylest an infant from a beare
He saves, his love doth misse.
LIKE as a ship with dreadfull storm long tost,
Having spent all her mastes and her ground-hold,
Now farre from harbour likely to be lost,
At last some fisher-barke doth neare behold,
That giveth comfort to her courage cold;
Such was the state of this most courteous knight,
Being oppressed by that faytour bold,
That he remayned in most perilous plight,
And his sad ladie left in pitifull affright;
Till that by fortune, passing all foresight,
A salvage man, which in those woods did wonne,
Drawne with that ladies loud and piteous shright,
Toward the same incessantly did ronne,
To understand what there was to be donne ;
There he this most discourteous craven found,
As fiercely yet as when he first begonne,
Chasing the gentle Calepine around,
Ne sparing him the more for all his grievous wound.
The salvage man, that never till this houre
Did taste of pittie, neither gentlesse knew,
Seeing his sharpe assault and cruell stoure,
Was much emmoved at his peril's vew,
That even his ruder hart began to rew,
And feele compassion of his evill plight,
Against his foe that did him so pursew;
From whom he meant to free him, if he might,
And him avenge of that so villenous despight.
IV.
Yet armes or weapon had he none to fight,
Ne knew the use of warlike instruments,
Save such as sudden rage him lent to smite :
But naked, without needfull vestiments
To clad his corpse with meete habiliments,
He cared not for dint of sword or speere,
No more then for the stroke of strawes or bents;
For from his mother's wombe, which him did beare,
He was invulnerable made by magicke leare.
He stayed not t' advize which way were best
His foe t'assayle, or how himselfe to gård,
But with fierce fury and with force infest
Upon him ran; who being well prepard,
His first assault full warily did ward,
And with the push of his sharp-pointed speare
Full on the breast him strooke so strong and hard,
That forst him backe recoyle and reele areare ;
Yet in his bodie made no wound nor bloud appeare,
With that the wyld man more enraged grew,
Like to a tyger that hath mist his pray,
And with mad mood againe upon him flew,
Regarding neither speare that mote him slay,
Nor his fierce steed that mote him much dismay :
The salvage nation doth all dread despize:
Tho on his shield he griple hold did lay,
And held the same so hard, that by no wize
He could him force to loose, or leave his enterprize.
VII.
Long did he wrest and wring it to and fro,
And every way did try, but all in vaine;
For he would not his greedie grype forgoe,
But hayld and puld with all his might and maine,
That from his steed him nigh he drew againe;
Who having now no use of his long speare
So nigh at hand, nor force his shield to straine,
Both speare and shield, as things that needlesse
He quite forsooke, and fled himselfe away for feare.
VIII.
But after him the wyld man ran apace,
And him pursewed with importune speed,
For he was swift as any bucke in chace;
And had he not in his extreamest need
Bene helped through the swiftnesse of his steed,
He had him overtaken in his flight;
Who, ever as he saw him nigh succeed,
Gan cry aloud with horrible affright,
And shrieked out; a thing uncomely for a knight.
But when the salvage saw his labour vaine
In following of him that fled so fast,
He wearie woxe, and backe return'd againe
With speede unto the place whereas he last
Had left that couple neare their utmost cast;
There he that knight full sorely bleeding found,
And eke the lady fearefully aghast,
Both for the perill of the present stound,
And also for the sharpnesse of her rankling wound:
X.
For though she ware right glad so rid to bee
From that vile lozell which her late offended,
Yet now no lesse encombrance she did see
And perill, by this salvage man pretended;
Gainst whom she saw no means to be defended,
By reason that her knight was wounded sore;
Therefore herselfe she wholy recommended
To God's sole grace, whom she did oft implore
To send her succour, being of all hope forlore.
XI
But the wyld man, contrarie to her feare,
Came to her creeping like a fawning hound,
And by the rude tokens made to her appeare
His deepe compassion of her dolefull stound,
Kissing his hands, and crouching to the ground;
For other language had he none nor speach,
But a foft murmure and confused sound
Of senselesse words, which Nature did him teach
T'expresse his passions, which hisreason did empeach:
And comming likewise to the wounded knight,
When he beheld the streames of purple blood
Yet flowing fresh, as moved with the sight,
He made great mone after his salvage mood
And running streight into the thickest wood,
A certaine herbe from thence unto him brought,
Whose vertue he by use well understood,
The iuyce whereof into his wound he wrought,
And stopt the bleeding straight, ere he it staunched
[thought.
Then taking up that recreant's shield and speare,
Which earst he left, he signes unto them made
With him to wend unto his wonning neare;
To which he easily did them perswade.
Farre in the forest, by a hollow glade,
Covered with mossie shrubs, which spredding brode
Did underneath them make a gloomy shade,
Where foot of living creature never trode,
Ne scarse wyld beasts durst come, there was this
XIV. [wight's abode.
Thether he brought these unacquainted guests,
To whom faire semblance, as he could, he shewed
By signes, by lookes, and all his other gests;
But the bare ground with hoarie mosse bestrowed
Must be their bed; their pillow was unsowed;
And the fruites of the forrest was their feast :
For their bad stuard neither plough'd nor sowed,
Ne fed on flesh, ne ever of wyld beast
Did taste the bloud, obaying Nature's first beheast.
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