With that he drives at them with dreadfull might,
Both in remembrance of his friends late harme,
And in revengement of his owne despight:

So both together give a new allarme,
As if but now the battell wexed warme.

As when two greedy wolves doe breake by force
Into an heard, farre from the husband farme,
They spoile and ravine without all remorse:

| Much wondred all men what or whence he came
That did amongst the troupes so tyrannize;
And each of other gan inquire his name:
But, when they could not learne it by no wize,
Most answerable to his wyld disguize

It seemed, him to terme the Salvage Knight:
But certes his right name was otherwize,
Though knowne to few that Arthegall he hight,

Fiercely they followd on their bolde emprize,
Till trumpets sound did warne them all to rest:
Then all with one consent did yeeld the prize
To Triamond and Cambell as the best:
But Triamond to Cambell it relest,
And Cambell it to Triamond transferd;
Each labouring t' advance the others gest,
And make his praise before his owne preferd :
So that the doome was to another day differd.

The last day came; when all those knightes againe
Assembled were their deedes of armes to shew.
Full many deedes that day were shewed plaine:
But Satyrane, bove all the other crew,
His wondrous worth declard in all mens view;
For from the first he to the last endured:
And though some while Fortune from him withdrew,
Yet evermore his honour he recured,
And with unwearied powre his party still assured.

Ne was there knight that ever thought of armes, But that his utmost prowesse there made knowen: That, by their many wounds and carelesse harmes, By shivered speares and swords all under strowen, By scattered shields, was easie to be showen. There might ye see loose steeds at randon ronne, Whose lucklesse riders late were overthrowen; And squiers make hast to helpe their lords fordonne: But still the knights of Maidenhead the better wonne.

Till that there entred on the other side
Astraunger knight, from whence no man could reed,
In quyent disguise, full hard to be descride:
For all his armour was like salvage weed
With woody mosse bedight, and all his steed
With oaken leaves attrapt, that seemed fit
For salvage wight, and thereto well agreed
His word, which on his ragged shield was writ,
Salvagesse sans finesse, shewing secret wit.

He, at his first incomming, charg'd his spere
At him that first appeared in his sight;
That was to weet the stout sir Sangliere,
Who well was knowen to be a valiant knight,
Approved oft in many a perlous fight:
Him at the first encounter downe he smote,
And over-bore beyond his crouper quight;
And after him another knight, that hote
Sir Brianor, so sore, that none him life behote.

Then, ere his hand he reard, he overthrew
Seven knights one after other as they came:
And, when his speare was brust, his sword he drew,
The instrument of wrath, and with the same
Far'd like a lyon in his bloodie game,
Hewing and slashing shields and helmets bright,
And beating downe whatever nigh him came,
That every one gan shun his dreadfull sight
No lesse then death itselfe, in daungerous affright.

of might.

Thus was sir Satyrane with all his band

By his sole manhood and atchievement stout
Dismay'd, that none of them in field durst stand,
But beaten were and chased all about,
So he continued all that day throughout,
Till evening that the Sunne gan downward bend:
Then rushed forth out of the thickest rout
A stranger knight, that did his glorie shend:
So nought may be esteemed happie till the end!

He at his entrance charg'd his powrefull speare
At Arthegall, in middest of his pryde,
And therewith smote him on his umbriere
So sore, that tombling backe he downe did slyde
Over his horses taile above a stryde;
Whence litle lust he had to rise againe.
Which Cambell seeing, much the same envyde,
And ran at him with all his might and maine;
But shortly was likewise seene lying on the plaine.

Whereat full inly worth was Triamond,
And cast t' avenge the shame doen to his freend:
But by his friend himselfe eke soone he fond
In no lesse neede of helpe then him he weend.
All which when Blandamour from end to end
Beheld, he woxe therewith displeased sore,
And thought in mind it shortly to amend :
His speare he feutred, and at him it bore;
But with no better fortune then the rest afore.

Full many others at him likewise ran;
But all of them likewise dismounted were:
Ne certes wonder; for no powre of man
Could bide the force of that enchaunted speare,
The which this famous Britomart did beare;
With which she wondrous deeds of arms atchieved,
And overthrew whatever came her neare,
That all those stranger knights full sore agrieved,
And that late weaker band of chalengers relieved.

Like as in sommers day when raging heat
Doth burne the earth and boyled rivers drie,
That all brute beasts forst to refraine fro meat
Doe hunt for shade where shrowded they may lie,
And, missing it, faine from themselves to flie;
All travellers tormented are with paine:
A watry cloud doth overcast the skie,
And poureth forth a sudden shoure of raine,
That all the wretched world recomforteth againe:

So did the warlike Britomart restore
The prize to knights of Maydenhead that day,
Which else was like to have been lost, and bore
The prayse of prowesse from them all away.
Then shrilling trompets loudly gan to bray,
And bad them leave their labours and long toyle
To ioyous feast and other gentle play,
Where beauties prize shouldwin that pretious spoyle:
Where I with sound of trompe will also rest awhyle.

So much the more her griefe, the more her toyle:
Yet neither toyle nor griefe she once did spare,
In seeking him that should her paine assoyle;
Whereto great comfort in her sad misfare
Was Amoret, companion of her care:
Who likewise sought her lover long miswent,
The gentle Scudamour, whose heart whileare
That stryfull hag with gealous discontent
Had fild, that he to fell reveng was fully bent;

Bent to revenge on blamelesse Britomart
The crime which cursed Atè kindled earst,
The which like thornes did pricke his gealous hart,
And through his soule like poysned arrow perst,
That by no reason it might be reverst,
For ought that Glaucè could or doe or say:
For, aye the more that she the same reherst,
The more it gauld and griev'd him night and day,
That nought but dire revenge his anger mote defray.

So as they travelled, the drouping night
Covered with cloudie storme and bitter showre,
That dreadfull seem'd to every living wight,
Upon them fell, before her timely howre;
That forced them to seeke some covert bowre,
Where they might hide their heads in quiet rest,
And shrowd their persons from that stormie stowre.
Not farre away, not meete for any guest, [nest.
They spide a little cottage, like some poore mans

Under a steepe hilles side it placed was, [banke;
There where the mouldred earth had cav'd the.
And fast beside a little brooke did pas
Of muddie water, that like puddle stanke,
By which few crooked sallowes grew in ranke:
Whereto approaching nigh, they heard the sound
Of many yron hammers beating ranke,
And answering their wearie turnes around, [ground.
That seemed some blacksmith dwelt in that desert

There entring in, they found the goodman selfe
Full busily unto his worke ybent;
Who was to weet a wretched wearish elfe,
With hollow eyes and rawbone cheekes forspent,
As if he had in prison long bene pent:
Full blacke and griesly did his face appeare,
Besmeard with smoke that nigh his eye-sight blent;
With rugged beard, and hoarie shagged heare,
The which he never wont to combe, or comely
sheare.

Rude was his garment, and to rags all rent,
Ne better had be, ne for better cared:
With blistred hands emongst the cinders brent,
And fingers filthie with long nayles unpared,
Right fit to rend the food on which he fared.
His name was Care; a blacksmith by his trade,
That neither day nor night from working spared,
But to small purpose yron wedges made; [vade.
Those be unquiet thoughts that carefull minds in-

In which his worke he had sixe servants prest,
About the andvile standing evermore

With huge great hammers, that did never rest
From heaping stroakes which thereon soused sore:
All sixe strong groomes, but one then other more;
For by degrees they all were disagreed;
So likewise did the hammers which they bore
Like belles in greatnesse orderly succeed, [ceede.
That he, which was the last, the first did farre ex-

He like a monstrous gyant seem'd in sight,
Farre passing Bronteus or Pyracmon great,
The which in Lipari doe day and night
Frame thunderbolts for loves avengefull threate.
So dreadfully he did the andvile beat,
That seem'd to dust he shortly would it drive:
So huge his hammer, and so fierce his heat,
That seem'd a rocke of diamond it could rive
And rend asunder quite, if he thereto list strive.
Sir Scudamour there entring much admired
The manner of their worke and wearie paine;
And, having long beheld, at last enquired
The cause and end thereof; but all in vaine;
For they for nought would from their worke refraine,
Ne let his speeches come unto their eare.
And eke the breathfull bellowes blew amaine,
Like to the northren winde, that none could heare;
Those Pensifenesse did move; and sighes the bel-

lows weare.

Which when that warriour saw, he said no more,
But in his armour layd him downe to rest:
To rest he layd him downe upon the flore,
(Whylome for ventrous knights the bedding best)
And thought his wearie limbs to have redrest.
And that old aged dame, his faithfull squire,
Her feeble joynts layd eke adowne to rest;
That needed much her weake age to desire,
After so long a travell which them both did tire.
There lay sir Scudamour long while expecting
When gentle sleepe his heavie eyes would close;
Oft chaunging sides, and oft new place electing,
Where better seem'd he mote himselfe repose;
And oft in wrath he thence againe uprose;
And oft in wrath he layd him downe againe.
But, wheresoere he did himselfe dispose,
He by no meanes could wished ease obtaine:
So every place seem'd painefull, and ech changing

vaine.

And evermore, when he to sleepe did thinke,
The hammers sound his senses did molest;
And evermore, when he began to winke,
The bellowes noyse disturb'd his quiet rest,
Ne suffred sleepe to settle in his brest,
And all the night the dogs did barke and howle
About the house, at sent of stranger guest:
And now the crowing cocke, and now the owle
Lowde shriking, him afflicted to the very sowle,

Both Scudamour and Arthegall

Doe fight with Britomart:

He sees her face; doth fall in love,
And soone from her depart.

WHAT equall torment to the griefe of mind
And pyning anguish hid in gentle hart,
That inly feeds itselfe with thoughts unkind,
And nourisheth her owne consuming smart!
What medicine can any leaches art
Yeeld such a sore, that doth her grievance hide,
And will to none her maladie impart !

Such was the wound that Scudamour did gride;
For which Dan Phebus selfe cannot a salve provide.

Who having left that restlesse House of Care,
The next day, as he on his way did ride,
Full of melancholie and sad misfare
Through misconceipt, all unawares espide
An armed knight under a forrest side
Sitting in shade beside his grazing steede ;
Who, soone as them approaching he descride,
Gan towards them to pricke with eger speede,
That seem'd he was full bent to some mischievous
deede.

Which Scudamour perceiving forth issewed
To have rencountred him in equall race;
But, soone as th' other nigh approaching vewed
The armes he bore, his speare he gan abase
And voide his course; at which so suddain case
He wondred much: but th' other thus can say;
"Ah! gentle Scudamour, unto your grace
I me submit, and you of pardon pray,
That almost had against you trespassed this day."
Whereto thus Scudamour; "Small harme it were
For any knight upon a ventrous knight
Without displeasance for to prove his spere.
But reade you, sir, sith ye my name have hight,
What is your owne, that I mote you requite."
"Certes," sayd he, "ye mote as now excuse
Me from discovering you my name aright:
For time yet serves that I the same refuse;
But call ye me the Salvage Knight, as others use."
"Then this, sir Salvage Knight," quoth he, "areede;
Or doe you here within this forrest wonne,
That seemeth well to answere to your weede,
Or have ye it for some occasion donne?
That rather seemes, sith knowen armes ye shonne."
"This other day," sayd he, "a stranger knight
Shame and dishonour hath unto me doune;
On whom I waite to wreake that foule despight,
Whenever be this way shall passe by day or night."

"Shame be his meede," quoth he, "that meaneth shame!

But what is he by whom ye shamed were?"
"A stranger knight," sayd he, "unknowne by name,
But knowne by fame, and by an hebene speare
With which he all that met him downe did beare.
He, in an open turney lately held,

Fro me the honour of that game did reare;
And having me, all wearie earst, downe feld,
The fayrest ladie reft, and ever since withheld."
When Scudamour heard mention of that speare,
He wist right well that it was Britomart,
The which from him his fairest love did beare.
Tho gan he swell in every inner part
For fell despight, and gnaw his gealous hart,
That thus he sharply sayd; "Now by my head,
Yet is not this the first unknightly part,

Which that same knight, whom by his launce I read, Hoth doen to noble knights, that many makes him dread:

"For lately he my love hath fro me reft,
And eke defiled with foule villanie
The sacred pledge which in his faith was left,
In shame of knighthood and fidelitie;
The which ere long full deare he shall abie:
And if to that avenge by you decreed
This hand may helpe, or succour ought supplie,
It shall not fayle whenso ye shall it need." [agreed.
So both to wreake their wrathes on Britomart