Thus when they long had treated to and fro,
And Calidore betooke him to depart,
Chyld Triftram prayd that he with him might goe
On his adventure, vowing not to start,
But wayt on him in every place and part:
Whereat fir Calidore did much delight,
And greatly ioy'd at his fo noble hart,
In hope he fure would prove a doughtie knight:
Yet for the time this anfwere he to him behight;
XXXVII.
Glad would I furely be, thou courteous Squire,
To have thy prefence in my prefent queft,
That mote thy kindled courage fet on fire,
And flame forth honour in thy noble breft:
But I am bound by vow, which I profeft
To
my dread foveraine, when I it affayd,
That in atchievement of her high beheft
I fhould no creature ioyne unto mine ayde;
Forthy I may not graunt that ye fo greatly prayde.
XXXVIII.
But fince this ladie is all defolate,
And needeth fafegard now upon
ber way,
may doe well in this her needfull ftate
To fuccour her from daunger of difmay,
That thankfull guerdon may to you repay.
The noble ympe, of fuch new service fayne,
It gladly did accept, as he did say:
So taking courteous leave they parted twayne;
And Calidore forth paffed to his former payne.
XXXIX.
But Triftram then defpoyling that dead knight
Of all those goodly implements of prayse,
Long fed his greedie eyes with the faire fight
Of the bright mettall shyning like funne rayes ;
Handling and turning them a thousand wayes:
And after having them upon him dight,
He tooke that ladie, and her did rayfe
Upon the steed of her owne late dead knight:
So with her marched forth as she did him behight.
There to their fortune leave we them awhile,
And turne we backe to good fir Calidore;
Who, ere he thence had traveild many a mile,
Came to the place whereas ye heard afore
This knight, whom Triftram flew, had wounded fore
Another knight in his despiteous pryde;
There he that knight found lying on the flore
With many wounds full perilous and wyde,
That all his garments and the graffe in vermeill dyde:
And there befide him fate upon the ground
His wofull ladie, piteously complayning
With loud laments that most unluckie ftound,
And her fad felfe with carefull hand conftrayning
To wype
his wounds, and ease their bitter payning:
Which forie fight when Calidore did vew
With heavie eyne from teares uneath refrayning,
His mightie hart their mournefull cafe can rew,
And for their better comfort to them nigher drew :
XLII.
Then fpeaking to the ladie, thus he faid,
Te dolefull dame, let not your griefe empeach
To tell, what cruell hand hath thus arayd
This knight unarm'd with fo unknightly breach
Of armes, that if I yet him nigh may reach,
I may avenge him of fo foule defpight.
The ladie hearing his fo courteous fpeach,
Gan reare her eyes as to the chearefull light,
And from her fory hart few heavie words forth figh't:
XLIII.
In which the fhew'd, how that difcourteous knight,
Whom Triftram flew, them in that fhadow found
Ioying together in unblam'd delight;
And him unarm'd, as now he lay on ground,
Charg'd with his fpeare, and mortally did wound,
Withouten caufe, but onely her to reave
From him, to whom fhe was for ever bound:
Yet when she fled into that covert greave,
He her not finding both them thus nigh dead did leave,
When Calidore this ruefull ftorie had
Well understood, he gan of her demand,
What manner wight he was, and how yclad,
Which had this outrage wrought with wicked hand.
She then, like as the best could understand,
Him thus defcrib'd, to be of ftature large,
Clad all in gilden armes, with azure band
Quartred athwart, and bearing in his targe
A ladie on rough waves row'd in a fommer barge.
XLV.
Then gan fir Calidore to gheffe ftreightway
By many fignes which she described had,
That this was he whom Triftram earst did flay,
And to her faid; Dame, be no longer fad;
For he that hath your knight fo ill beftad
Is now himselfe in much more wretched plight;
Thefe eyes
him faw upon the cold earth fprad,
The meede of his defert for that defpight,
Which to yourselfe he wrought and to your
Therefore, faire lady, lay afide this griefe,
Which ye have gathered to your gentle hart
For that difpleasure; and thinke what reliefe
Were beft devife for this your lovers Smart;
And how ye may bim hence, and to what part
Convay to be recur'd. fhe thankt him deare,
Both for that newes he did to her impart,
And for the courteous care which he did beare
Both to her love and to herfelfe in that fad dreare.
XLVII.
Yet could fhe not devise by any wit,
How thence she might convay him to fome place;
For him to trouble she it thought unfit,
That was a ftraunger to her wretched cafe;
And him to beare, fhe thought it thing too bafe.
Which whenas he perceiv'd he thus bespake;
Faire lady, let it not you feeme difgrace
To beare this burden on your dainty backe;
Myfelfe will beare a part, coportion of your packe.
So off he did his fhield, and downeward layd
Upon the ground, like to an hollow beare;
And powring balme, which he had long purvayd,
Into his wounds, him thereon did reare,
And twixt them both with parted paines did beare,
Twixt life and death, not knowing what was donne :
Thence they him carried to a castle neare,
In which a worthy auncient knight did wonne :
Where what ensu'd shall in next canto be begonne.
Calidore brings Prifcilla home,
Purfues the Blatant beaft:
Saves Serena, whileft Calepine
By Turpine is oppreft.
RUE is, that whilome that good poet fayd,
The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne :
For a man by nothing is fo well bewrayd
As by his manners; in which plaine is showne
Of what degree and what race he is growne:
For feldome feene a trotting ftalion get
An ambling colt, that is his proper owne:
So feldome feene that one in baseneffe fet
Doth noble courage fhew with curteous manners met,
But evermore contrary hath bene tryde,
That gentle bloud will gentle manners breed;
As well may be in Calidore defcryde,
By late enfample of that courteous deed
Done to that wounded knight in his great need,
Whom on his backe he bore, till he him brought
Unto the caftle where they had decreed :
There of the knight, the which that castle ought,
To make abode that night he greatly was befought.
He was to weete a man of full ripe yeares,
That in his youth had beene of mickle might,
And borne great fway in armes amongst his peares ;
But now weake age had dimd his candle light:
Yet was he courteous ftill to every wight,
And loved all that did to armes incline;
And was the father of that wounded knight,
Whom Calidore thus carried on his chine;
And Aldus was his name, and his fonnes Aladine.
Who when he saw his fonne so ill bedight
With bleeding wounds, brought home upon a beare
By a faire lady and a straunger knight,
Was inly touched with compaffion deare,
And deare affection of so dolefull dreare,
That he these words burst forth; Ab fory boy,
Is this the hope that to my boary heare
Thou brings? aie me! is this the timely ioy,
Which I expected long, now turnd to fad annoy
Such is the weakenesse of all mortall hope;
So tickle is the fate of earthly things;
That ere they come unto their aymed fcope,
They fall too short of our fraile reckonings,
And bring us bale and bitter forrowings
Inftead of comfort, which we should embrace:
This is the ftate of keafars and of kings:
Let none therefore, that is in meaner place,
Too greatly grieve at any his unlucky cafe.
So well and wifely did that good old knight
Temper his griefe, and turned it to cheare,
To cheare his guests whom he had stayd that night,
And make their welcome to them well appeare ;
That to fir Calidore was eafie geare:
But that faire lady would be cheard for nought,
But figh'd and forrow'd for her lover deare,
And inly did afflict her penfive thought,
With thinking to what cafe her name should now be brought:
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