If that the cause of this your languishment Be lacke of children to supply your place, Lo how good fortune doth to you prefent This litle babe of fweete and lovely face,' And fpotleffe fpirit, in which ye may enchace Whatever formes ye lift thereto apply, Being now foft and fit them to embrace; Whether ye lift him traine in chevalry, Or nourfle up in lore of learn'd philofophy. XXXVI.
And certes it hath oftentimes bene feene, That of the like, whofe linage was unknowne, More brave and noble knights have rayfed beene (As their victoricus deedes have often showen, Being with fame through many nations blowen) Then thofe which have bene dandled in the lap. Therefore fome thought that those brave imps were fowen Here by the gods, and fed with heavenly Sap, That made them grow fo high t'all honorable hap. XXXVII.
The ladie hearkning to his fenfefull speach, Found nothing that he said unmeet nor geason, Having oft feene it tryde as he did teach : Therefore inclyning to his goodly reason, Agreeing well both with the place and season, She gladly did of that fame babe accept,
As of her owne by liverey and feifin ; And having over it a litle wept,
She bore it thence, and ever as her owne it kept. XXXVIII. Right glad was Calepine to be fo rid
Of his young charge, whereof he skilled nought: Ne she leffe glad; for she so wifely did, And with her husband under hand fo wrought, That when that infant unto him fhe brought, She made him think it furely was his owne ; And it in goodly thewes fo well up-brought,
That it became a famous knight well knowne,
And did right noble deedes, the which elfwhere are showne.
But Calepine, now being left alone Under the greene-woods fide in forie plight Withouten armes or steede to ride upon,
Or house to hide his head from heavens spight, Albe that dame by all the meanes she might Him oft defired home with her to wend, And offred him, his courtefie to requite,
Both horfe and armes and whatso else to lend,
Yet he them all refufd, though thankt her as a frend: XL.
And for exceeding griefe which inly grew, That he his love fo luckleffe now had loft, On the cold ground maugre himselfe he threw For fell defpight, to be fo forely croft; And there all night himselfe in anguish tost, Vowing that never he in bed againe
His limbes would rest ne lig in ease embost, Till that his ladies fight he mote attaine, Or understand that she in safetie did remaine.
The faloage Jerves Serena well, Till fhe prince Arthure fynd: Who her together with his squyre With th' hermit leaves bebynd.
What an eafie thing is to defcry
The gentle bloud, however it be wrapt
In fad misfortunes foule deformity
And wretched forrowes, which have often hapt? For howfoever it may grow mis-shapt,
Like this wyld man being undisciplynd, ! That to all vertue it may feeme unapt;
Yet will it fhew some sparkes of gentle mynd,
And at the last breake forth in his owne proper kynd.
That plainely may in this wyld man be red,
Who though he were still in this defert wood
Mongst falvage beasts, both rudely borne and bred, Ne ever faw faire guize, ne learned good, Yet fhewd fome token of his gentle blood By gentle ufage of that wretched dame : For certes he was borne of noble blood, However by hard hap he hether came;
As ye may know, when time fhall be to tell the fame.
Who whenas now long time he lacked had The good fir Celepine, that farre was ftrayd, Did wexe exceeding forrowfull and fad, As he of fome misfortune were afrayd; And leaving there this ladie all dismayd, Went forth ftreightway into the forreft wyde To feeke if he perchance asleep were layd, Or whatso else were unto him betyde:
He fought him farre and neare, yet him no where he spyde.
Tho backe returning to that forie dame, He shewed femblant of exceeding mone
By speaking fignes, as he them best could frame; Now wringing both his wretched hands in one, Now beating his hard head upon a stone, That ruth it was to fee him fo lament: By which she well perceiving what was done, Gan teare her hayre, and all her garments rent, And beat her breast, and piteously herselfe torment.
Upon the ground herfelfe the fiercely threw,
Regardleffe of her wounds yet bleeding rife, That with their bloud did all the flore imbrew, As if her breast new launcht with murdrous knife Would ftreight dislodge the wretched wearie life: There the long groveling and deepe groning lay, As if her vitall powers were at ftrife
With ftronger death, and feared their decay: Such were this ladies pangs and dolorous affay. VI.
Whom when the falvage saw so fore distrest, He reared her up from the bloudie ground, And fought by all the meanes, that he could best, Her to recure out of that ftony fwound,
And ftaunch the bleeding of her dreary wound : Yet nould she be recomforted for nought, Ne cease her forrow and impatient stound, But day and night did vexe her carefull thought, And ever more and more her owne affliction wrought. VII..
At length, whenas no hope of his retourne
She faw now left, fhe caft to leave the place, And wend abrode, though feeble and forlorne,
To feeke fome comfort in that forie cafe:
His steede, now ftrong through reft fo long a space, Well as she could she got, and did bedight;
And being thereon mounted forth did
Withouten guide her to conduct aright,
Or guard her to defend from bold oppreffors might.
Upon a day as on their way they went, It chaunft fome furniture about her steed To be difordred by fome accident;
Which to redreffe she did th'affistance need
Of this her groome; which he by fignes did reede: And streight his combrous armes afide did lay Upon the ground, withouten doubt or dreed; And in his homely wize began to affay 'T'amend what was amiffe, and put in right aray. XI.
Bout which whileft he was bufied thus hard, Lo where a knight together with his fquire, All arm'd to point came ryding thetherward; Which feemed by their portance and attire To be two errant knights, that did inquire After adventures, where they mote them get: Those were to weet (if that ye it require) Prince Arthur and young Timias, which met By ftraunge occafion, that here needs forth be fet.
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