"A shamefull use as ever I did heare,"
Sayd Calidore, "and to be overthrowne.
But by what meanes did they at first it reare,
And for what cause? tell if thou have it knowne."
Sayd then that squire; "The lady, which doth owne
This castle, is by name Briana hight;
Then which a prouder lady liveth none:
She long time hath deare lov'd a doughty knight,
And sought to win his love by all the meanes she
might.

"His name is Crudor; who, through high disdaine
And proud despight of his selfe-pleasing mynd,
Refused hath to yeeld her love againe,
Untill a mantle she for him doe fynd

With beards of knights and locks of ladies lynd:
Which to provide, she hath this castle dight,
And therein hath a seneschall assynd,
Cald Maleffort, a man of mickle might,
Who executes her wicked will with worse despight.

"He, this same day as I that way did come
With a faire damzell my beloved deare,
In execution of her lawlesse doome
Did set uppon us flying both for feare;
For little bootes against him hand to reare:
Me first he tooke unhable to withstond,
And whiles he her pursued every where,
Till his returne unto this tree he bond;

Ne wote I surely whether he her yet have fond."

Thus whiles they spake they heard a ruefull shrieke
Of one loud crying, which they streightway ghest
That it was she the which for helpe did seeke.
Tho, looking up unto the cry to lest,
They saw that carle from farre with hand unblest
Hayling that mayden by the yellow heare,
That all her garments from her snowy brest,
And from her head her lockes he nigh did teare,
Ne would he spare for pitty, nor refraine for feare.

Which haynous sight when Calidore beheld,
Eftsoones he loosd that squire, and so him left
With hearts dismay and inward dolour queld,
For to pursue that villaine, which had reft
That piteous spoile by so iniurious theft:
Whom overtaking, loude to him he cryde;
"Leave, faytor, quickely that misgotten weft
To him that hath it better iustifyde,

[defyde." And turne thee soone to him of whom thou art

Who, hearkning to that voice, himselfe upreard,
And, seeing him so fiercely towardes make,
Against him stoutly ran, as nought afeard,
But rather more enrag'd for those words sake;
And with sterne count'naunce thus unto him spake;
"Art thou the caytive that defyest me,
And for this mayd, whose party thou doest take,
Wilt give thy beard, though it but little bee?
Yet shall it not her lockes for raunsome fro me free."

With that he fiercely at him flew, and layd
On hideous strokes with most importune might,
That oft he made him stagger as unstayd,
And oft recuile to shunne his sharpe despight:
But Calidore, that was well skild in fight,
Him long forbore, and still his spirite spar'd,
Lying in waite how him he damadge might:
But when he felt him shrinke, and come to ward,
He greater grew, and gan to drive at him more hard.

Like as a water-streame, whose swelling sourse
Shall drive a mill, within strong bancks is pent,
And long restrayned of his ready course;
So soone as passage is unto him lent,
Breakes forth, and makes his way more violent;
Such was the fury of sir Calidore:
When once he felt his foe-man to relent,
He fiercely him pursu'd, and pressed sore;
Who as he still decayd, so he encreased more.

The heavy burden of whose dreadfull might
Whenas the carle no longer could sustaine,
His heart gan faint, and streight he tooke his flight
Toward the castle, where, if need constraine,
His hope of refuge used to remaine:
Whom Calidore perceiving fast to flie,
He him pursu'd and chaced through the plaine,
That he for dread of death gan loude to crie
Unto the ward to open to him hastilie.

They, from the wall him seeing so aghast,
The gate soone opened to receive him in ;
But Calidore did follow him so fast,
That even in the porch he him did win,
And cleft his head asunder to his chin:
The carkasse tumbling downe within the dore
Did choke the entraunce with a lumpe of sin,
That it could not be shut; whilest Calidore
Did enter in, and slew the porter on the flore.
With that the rest the which the castle kept
About him flockt, and hard at him did lay;
But he them all from him full lightly swept,
As doth a steare, in heat of sommers day,
With his long taile the bryzes brush away.
Thence passing forth into the hall he came,
Where of the lady selfe in sad dismay
He was ymett, who with uncomely shame
Gan him salute,and fowle upbrayd with faultyblame:

"False traytor knight," said she, "no knight at all,
But scorne of armes! that hast with guilty hand
Murdered my men, and slaine my seneschall;
Now comest thou to rob my house unmand,
And spoile myselfe, that cannot thee withstand?
Yet doubt thou not, but that some better knight
Then thou, that shall thy treason understand,
Will it avenge, and pay thee with thy right:
And if none do, yet shame shall thee with shame
requight."

Much was the knight abashed at that word;
Yet answer'd thus; "Not unto me the shame,
But to the shamefull doer it afford.
Bloud is no blemish; for it is no blame
To punish those that doe deserve the same;
But they that breake bands of civilitie,
And wicked customes make, those doe defame
Both noble armes and gentle curtesie:
No greater shame to man then inhumanitic.
"Then doe yourselfe, for dread of shame, forgoe
This evill manner which ye here maintaine,
And doe instead thereof mild curt'sie showe
To all that passe: that shall you glory gaine
More then his love, which thus ye seeke t' obtaine."
Wherewith all full of wrath she thus replyde;
"Vile recreant! know that I doe much disdaine
Thy courteous lore, that doest my love deride,
Who scornes thy ydle scoffe, and bids thec be de-
fyde."

"To take defiaunce at a ladies word,"
Quoth he, "I hold it no indignity;
But were he here, that would it with his sword
Abett, perhaps he mote it deare aby."
"Cowherd," quoth she, "were not that thou wouldst
Ere he doe come, he should be soone in place."
"If I doe so," sayd he, "then liberty
Ileave to you for aye me to disgrace [deface."
With all those shames, that erst ye spake me to

With that a dwarfe she cald to her in hast,
And taking from her hand a ring of gould
(A privy token which betweene them past)
Bad him to flie with all the speed he could
To Crudor; and desire him that he would
Vouchsafe to reskue her against a knight,
Who through strong powre had now herself in hould
Having late slaine her seneschall in fight,
And all her people murdred with outragious might:

The dwarfe his way did bast, and went all night:
But Calidore did with her there abyde
The comming of that so much threatned knight;
Where that discourteous dame with scornfull pryde
And fowle entreaty him indignifyde,
That yron heart it hardly could sustaine :
Yet he, that could his wrath full wisely guyde,
Did well endure her womanish disdaine,

And did himselfe from fraile impatience refraine,

ཉ

The morrow next, before the lampe of light
Above the Earth upreard his flaming head,
The dwarfe, which bore that message to her knight,
Brought aunswere backe, that ere he tasted bread
He would her suceour, and alive or dead
Her foe deliver up into her hand:
Therefore he wil'd her doe away all dread;
And, that of him she mote assured stand,
He sent to her his basenet as a faithfull band.

Thereof full blyth the ladie streight became,
And gan t'augment her bitternesse much more:
Yet no whit more appalled for the same,
Ne ought dismayed was sir Calidore;

But rather did more chearefull seeme therefore:
And, having soone his armes about him dight,
Did issue forth to meete his foe afore;
Where long he stayed not, whenas a knight

Nathlesse at length himselfe he did upreare
In lustlesse wise; as if against his will,
Ere he had slept his fill, he wakened were,
And gan to stretch his limbs; which feeling ill
Of his late fall, awhile he rested still:
But, when he saw his foe before in vew,
He shooke off luskishnesse; and, courage chill
Kindling afresh, gan battell to renew, [sew.
To prove if better foote then horsebacke would en-

There then began a fearefull cruell fray
Betwixt them two for maystery of might:
For both were wondrous practicke in that play,
And passing well expert in single fight,
And both inflam'd with furious despight;
Which as it still encreast, so still increast
Their cruell strokes and terrible affright;
Ne once for ruth their rigour they releast,
Ne once to breath awhile their angers tempest ceast.

Thus long they trac'd and traverst to and fro,
And tryde all waies how each mote entrance make
Into the life of his malignant foe;

They hew'd their helmes, and plates asunder brake,
As they had potshares bene; for nought mote slake
Their greedy vengeaunces but goary blood;
That at the last like to a purple lake

Of bloudy gore congeal'd about them stood,
Which from their riven sides forth gushed like a flood.

At length it chaunst that both their hands on hie
At once did heave with all their powre and might,
Thinking the utmost of their force to trie,
And prove the finall fortune of the fight;
But Calidore, that was more quicke of sight
And nimbler-handed then his enemie,
Prevented him before his stroke could light,
And on the helmet smote him formerlie, [militie :
That made him stoupe to ground with meeke hu-

And, ere he could recover foote againe,
He following that faire advantage fast
His stroke redoubled with such might and maine,
That him upon the ground he groveling cast;
And leaping to him light would have unlast
His helme, to make unto his vengeance way:
Who, seeing in what daunger he was plast,
Cryde out; "Ah mercie, sir! doe me not slay,

might.

Well weend he streight that he should be the same
Which tooke in hand her quarrell to maintaine;
Ne stayd to aske if it were he by name,
But coucht his speare, and ran at him amaine.
They bene ymett in middest of the plaine
With so fell fury and dispiteous forse,
That neither could the others stroke sustaine,
But rudely rowld to ground both man and horse,
Neither of other taking pitty nor remorse.

But Calidore uprose againe full light,
Whiles yet his foe lay fast in sencelesse sound;
Yet would he not him hurt although he might:
For shame he weend a sleeping wight to wound.
But when Briana saw that drery stound,
There where she stood uppon the castle wall,
She deem'd him sure to have bene dead on ground;
And made such piteous mourning therewithall,
That from the battlements she ready seem'd to fall.

lay."

With that his mortall hand awhile he stayd;
And, having somewhat calm'd his wrathfull heat
With goodly patience, thus he to him sayd;
"And is the boast of that proud ladies threat,
That menaced me from the field to beat,
Now brought to this? By this now may ye learne
Strangers no more so rudely to entreat;
But put away proud looke and usage sterne,
The which shal nought to you but foule dishonour

yearne.

"For nothing is more blamefull to a knight,
That cout'sie doth as well as armes professe,
However strong and fortunate in fight,
Then the reproch of pride and cruelnesse :
In vaine he seeketh others to suppresse,
Who hath not learnd himselfe first to subdew:
All flesh is frayle and full of ficklenesse,
Subiect to fortunes chance, still chaunging new;
What haps to day to me to morrow may to you,

"Who will not mercie unto others shew,
How can he mercie ever hope to have?
To pay each with his owne is right and dew:
Yet since ye mercie now doe need to crave,
I will it graunt, your hopelesse life to save,
With these conditions which I will propound:
First, that ye better shall yourselfe behave
Unto all errant knights, whereso on ground;
Next, that ye ladies ayde in every stead and stound."

The wretched man, that all this while did dwell
In dread of death, his heasts did gladly heare,
And promist to performe his precept well,
And whatsoever else he would requere.
So, suffring him to rise, he made him sweare
By his owne sword, and by the crosse thereon,
To take Briana for his loving fere
Withouten dowre or composition;

But to release his former foule condition.

All which accepting, and with faithfull oth
Bynding himselfe most firmely to obay,
He up arose, however liefe or loth,
And swore to him true féaltie for aye.
Then forth he cald from sorrow full dismay
The sad Briana which all this beheld;
Who comming forth yet full of late affray
Sir Calidore upcheard, and to her teld

All this accord to which he Crudor had compeld.

Whereof she now more glad then sory earst,
All overcome with infinite affect
For his exceeding courtesie, that pearst
Her stubborne hart with inward deepe effect,
Before his feet herselfe she did proiect;
And him adoring as her lives deare lord,
With all due thankes and dutifull respect,
Herselfe acknowledg'd bound for that accord,
By which he had to her both life and love restord.

So all returning to the castle glad,
Most joyfully she them did entertaine;
Where goodly glee and feast to them she made,
To shew her thankefull mind and meaning faine,
By all the meanes she mote it best explaine:
And, after all, unto sir Calidore

She freely gave that castle for his paine,
And herselfe bound to him for evermore;

So wondrously now chaung'd from that she was afore.

But Calidore himselfe would not retaine
Nor land nor fee for hyre of his good deede,
But gave them streight unto that squire againe,
Whom from her seneschall he lately freed,
And to his damzell, as their rightfull meed
For recompence of all their former wrong:
There he remaind with them right well agreed,
Till of his wounds he wexed hole and strong;
And then to his first quest he passed forth along.

VOL. III

CANTO II.

Calidore sees young Tristram slay
A proud discourteous knight:
He makes him squire, and of him learnes
His state and present plight.

WHAT vertue is so fitting for a knight,
Or for a ladie whom a knight should love,
As curtesie; to beare themselves aright
To all of each degree as doth behove?
For whether they be placed high above
Or low beneath, yet ought they well to know
Their good; that none them rightly may reprove
Of rudenesse for not yeelding what they owe:
Great skill it is such duties timely to bestow.

Thereto great helpe dame Nature selfe doth lend:
For some so goodly gratious are by kind,
That every action doth them much commend,
And in the eyes of men great liking find;
Which others that have greater skill in mind,
Though they enforce themselves, cannot attaine:
For everie thing, to which one is inclin'd,
Doth best become and greatest grace doth gaine:
Yet praise likewise deserve good thewes enforst with
paine.

That well in courteous Calidore appeares;
Whose every act and deed, that he did say,
Was like enchantment, that through both the eyes
And both the eares did steale the hart away.
He now againe is on his former way
To follow his first quest, whenas he spyde
A tall young man, from thence not farre away,
Fighting on foot, as well he him descryde,
Against an armed knight that did on horsebacke
ryde.

And them beside a ladie faire he saw
Standing alone on foote in foule array;
To whom himselfe he hastily did draw
To weet the cause of so uncomely fray,
And to depart them, if so be he may:
But, ere he came in place, that youth had kild
That armed knight, that low on ground he lay;
Which when he saw, his hart was inly child
With great amazement, and bis thought with won-
der fild.

Him stedfastly he markt, and saw to bee
A goodly youth of amiable grace,

Yet but a slender slip, that scarse did see
Yet seventeene yeares, but tail and faire of face,
That sure he deem'd him borne of noble race:
All in a woodmans iacket he was clad
Of Lincolne greene, belayd with silver lace;
And on his head an hood with aglets sprad,
And by his side his hunters horne he hanging had.

Buskins he wore of costliest cordwayne,
Pinckt upon gold, and paled part per part,
As then the guize was for each gentle swayne:
In his right hand he held a trembling dart,
Whose fellow he before had sent apart;
And in his left he held a sharpe bore-speare,
With which he wont to launch the salvage hart
Of many a lyon and of many a beare,

That first unto his hand in chase did happen neare.

U

"But, whenas her he by no meanes could find,
After long search and chauff he turned backe
Unto the place where me he left behind:
There gan he me to curse and ban, for lacke
Of that faire bootie, and with bitter wracke
To wreake on me the guilt of his owne wrong:
Of all which I yet glad to beare the packe
Strove to appease him, and perswaded long;
But still his passion grew moré violent and strong.

“Then, as it were t' avenge his wrath on mee,
When forward we should fare, he flat refused
To take me up (as this young man did see)
Upon his steed, for no iust cause accused,
But forst to trot on foot, and foule misused,
Pounching me with the butt-end of his speare,
In vaine complayning to be so abused;
For he regarded neither playut nor teare, [heare.
Bút more enforst my paine, the more my plaints to

"So passed we, till this young man us met;
And being moor'd with pittie of my plight
Spake, as was meete, for ease of my regret :
Whereof befell what now is in your sight."
"Now sure," then said sir Calidore," and right
Me seemes, that him befell by his owne fault:
Whoever thinkes through confidence of might,
Or through support of count'nance proud and hault,
To wrong the weaker, oft falles in his owne assault."

Then turning backe unto that gentle boy,
Which had himselfe so stoutly well acquit;
Seeing his face so lovely sterne and coy,
And hearing th' answeres of his pregnant wit,
He praysd it much, and much admyred it;
That sure he weened him born of noble blood,
With whom those graces did so goodly fit:
And, when he long had him beholding stood,
He burst into these wordes, as to him seemed good;

"Faire gentle swayne, and yet as stout as fayre,
That in these woods amongst the nymphs dost wonne,
Which daily may to thy sweete lookes repayre,
As they are wont unto Latonaes sonne
'After his chace on woodie Cynthus donne;
Well may I certes such an one thee read,
As by thy worth thou worthily hast wonne,
Or surely borne of some heroicke sead,
That in thy face appeares and gratious goodlyhead.

"But, should it not displease thee it to tell,
(Unlesse thou in these woods thyselfe conceale
For love amongst the woodie gods to dwell,)
I would thyselfe require thee to reveale;
For deare affection and unfayned zeale
Which to thy noble personage I beare,
And wish thee grow in worship and great weale:
For, since the day that armes I first did reare,
I never saw in any greater hope appeare."

To whom then thus the noble youth; "May be,
Sir Knight, that, by discovering my estate,
Harme may arise unweeting unto me;
Nathelesse, sith ye so courteous seemed late,
To you I will not feare it to relate.
Then wote ye that I am a Briton borne,
Sonne of a king, (however thorough fate
Or fortune I my countrie have forlone,

"And Tristram is my name; the onely heire
Of good king Meliogras which did rayne
In Cornewale, till that he through lives despeire
Untimely dyde, before I did attaine

Ripe yeares of reason, my right to maintaine:
After whose death his brother, seeing mee
An infant, weake a kingdome to sustaine,
Upon him tooke the roiall high degree,

And sent me, where him list, instructed for to bee.

"The widow queene my mother, which then hight
Faire Emiline, conceiving then great feare
Of my fraile safetie, resting in the might
Of him that did the kingly scepter beare,
Whose gealous dread induring not a peare
Is wont to cut off all that doubt may breed;
Thought best away me to remove somewhere
Into some forrein land, whereas no need
Of dreaded daunger might his doubtfull humor feed.
"So, taking counsell of a wise man red,
She was by him adviz'd to send me quight
Out of the countrie wherein I was bred,
The which the Fertile Lionesse is hight,
Into the land of Faerie, where no wight
Should weet of me, nor worke me any wrong:
To whose wise read she hearkning sent me streight
Into this land, where I have wond thus long [strong.
Since I was ten yeares old, now grown to stature

"All which my daies I have not lewdly spent,
Nor spilt the blossome of my tender yeares
In ydlesse; but, as was convenient,
Have trayned bene with many noble feres
In gentle thewes and such like seemly leres:
Mongst which my most delight hath alwaies been
To hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peres,
Of all that raungeth in the forrest greene,
Of which none is to me unknowne that ev'r was seene.

"Ne is there hauke which mantleth her on pearch,
Whether high towring or accoasting low,
But I the measure of her flight doe search,
And all her pray and all her diet know:
Such be our ioyes which in these forrests grow:
Onely the use of armes, which most I ioy,
And fitteth most for noble swayne to know,
I have not tasted yet; yet past a boy,
And being now high time these strong ioynts to

[imploy.

adorue,)

I had, you to reward with greater dignitie."