" A shamefull use as ever I did heare,"

Like as a water-streame, whose swelling sourse Sayd Calidore, “ and to be overthrowne.

Shall drive a mill, within strong bancks is pent, But by what meanes did they at first it reare, And long restrayned of his ready course; And for what cause ? tell if thou have it knowne." So soone as passage is unto bim lent, Sayd then that squire; " The lady, whieh doth owne Breakes forth, and makes his way more violent; This castle, is by name Briana hight;

Such was the fury of sir Calidore: Then which a prouder lady liveth none:

When once he felt his foe-man to relent, She long time hath deare lov'd a doughty knight, He fiercely him pursu'd, and pressed sore; And sought to win his love by all the meanes she Who as he still decayd, so he encreased more. might.

The heavy burden of whose dreadfull might “ His name is Crudor; who, through high disdaine Whenas the carle no longer could sustaine, And proud despight of his selfe-pleasing mynd, His heart gan faint, and streight he tooke his flight Refused hath to yeeld her love againe,

Toward the castle, where, if need constraine, Untill a mantle she for him doe fynd

His hope of refuge used to remaine: With beards of knights and locks of ladies lynd: Whom Calidore perceiving fast to flie, Which to provide, she hath this castle digbt, He him pursu'd and chaсed through the plaine, And therein hath a seneschall assynd,

That he for dread of death gan loude to crie Cald Maleffort, a man of mickle might,

Unto the ward to open to him hastilie. Who executes her wicked will with worse despight.

They, from the wall him seeing so aghast, « He, this same day as I that way did come The gate soone opened to receive him in; With a faire damzell my beloved deare,

But Calidore did follow him so fast, In execution of her lawlesse doome

That even in the porch he him did win, Did set uppon us flying both for feare;

And cleft his head asunder to bis chin: For little bootes against him hand to reare: The carkasse tumbling downe within the dore Me first he tooke unhable to withstond,

Did choke the entraunce with a lumpe of sin, And whiles he her pursued every where,

That it could not be shut; wbilest Calidore Till his returne unto this tree he bond;

Did enter in, and slew the porter on the flore. Ne wote I surely whether he her yet have fond.”

With that the rest the which the castle kept Thus whiles they spake they heard a ruefull shrieke About him flockt, and hard at him did lay; Of one loud crying, which they streightway ghest

But he them all from him full lightly swept, That it was she the which for helpe did seeke.

As doth a steare, in heat of sommers day, Tho, looking up unto the cry to lest,

With bis long taile the bryzes brush away. They say that carle from farre with hand unblest

Thence passing forth into the ball he came, Hayling that mayden by the yellow heare,

Where of the lady selfe in sad dismay That all her garments from her snowy brest,

He was ymett, who with uncomely shame And from her head her lockes he nigh did leare,

Gan him salute,and fowle upbrayd with faultyblame: Ne would he spare for pitty, nor refraine for feare.

“ False traytor knight," said she, “no knight at all, Which baynous sight when Calidore beheld,

But scorne of arnies ! that hast with guilty hand Eftsooves he loosd that squire, and so him left

Murdered my men, and slaine my seneschall ; With hearts disınay and inward dolour queld,

Now comest thou to rob my house unmand,

And spoile myselfe, that cannot thee withstand ? For to pursue that villaine, which had reft

Yet doubt thou not, but that some better knight That piteous spoile by so iniurious theft: Whom overtaking, loude to him he cryde;

Then thou, that shall thy treason understand, " Leave, faytor, quickely that misgotten weft

Will it avenge, and pay thee with thy right: To him that hath it better iustifyde, [defyde."

And if none do, yet shame shall thee with shame And turne thee soone to him of whom thou art

requight."

Much was the knight abashed at that word ; Who, hearkning to that voice, himselfe upreard,

Yet answer'd thus; “ Not unto me the shame, And, seeing him so fiercely towardes make,

But to the shamefull doer it afford.
Against him stoutly ran, as nought afеard,

Bloud is no blemish; for it is no blaine
But rather more enrag'd for those words sake; To punish those that doe deserve the same;
And with sterne count'naunce thus unto him spake; But they that breake bands of civilitie,
“ Art thou the caytive that defyest me,

And wicked customes make, those doe defame
And for this mayd, whose party thou doest take, Both noble armes and gentle curtesie:
Wilt give thy beard, though it but little bee?

No greater shame to man then inhumanitie. Yet shall it not her lockes for raunsome fro me free.”

“ Then doe yourselfe, for dread of shame, forgoe With that he fiercely at him few, and layd This evill manner which ye here maintaine, On hideous strokes with most importune might, And doe instead thereof mild curt'sie showc That oft he made him stagger as unstayd,

To all that passe: that shall you glory gaine And oft recuile to shunne his sharpe despight: More then his love, which thus ye seeket obtaine.” But Calidore, that was well skild in fight,

Wherewith all full of wrath she thus replyde; Him long forbore, and still his spirite spar'd, " Vile recreant ! know that I doe much disdaine Lying in waite how him he damadge might: Thy courteous lore, that doest my love deride, But when he felt hiin shrinke, and come to ward, Who scornes thy ydle scoffe, and bids thee be deHe greater grew, and gan to drive at him more hard.

fyde.”

“ To take defiaunce at a ladies word,”

Nathlesse at length himselfe he did upreare Quoth he, “ I hold it no indignity;

In lustlesse wise; as if against bis will,
But were he here, that would it with his sword Ere he had slept his fill, he wakened were,
Abett, perhaps he mote it deare aby." [Ay Aud gan to stretch his limbs; which feeling ill
“ Cowherd,” quoth she, "were not that thou wouldst of his late fall, awhile he rested still:
Ere he doe come, he should be soone in place.” But, when he saw his foe before in vew,
“ If I doe so," sayd he," then liberty

He shooke off luskishnesse ; and, courage chill
Hleave to you for aye me to disgrace [deface.” | Kindling afresh, gan battell to renew, [sew.
With all those shames, that erst ye spake me to To prove if better foote then horsebacke would en-
With that a dwarfe she cald to her in hast, There then began a fearefull cruell fray
And taking from her hand a ring of gould Betwixt them iwo for maystery of might:
(A privy token which betweene them past) For both were wondrous practicke in that play,
Bad him to flie with all the speed he could And passing well expert io single fight,
To Crudor; and desire him that he would

And both infiam'd with furious despight;
Vouchsafe to reskue her against a knight,

Which as it still encreast, so still increast
Who through strong powre had now berselfiu hould Their cruell strokes and terrible affright;
Having late slaine her seneschall in fight,

Ne once for ruth their rigour they releast,
And all her people murdred with outragious might: Neonce to breath awhile their augers tempest ceast.
The dwarfe his way did bast, and went all night: Thus long they trac'd and traverst to and fro,
But Calidore did with her there abyde

And tryde all waies how each mote entrance make
The comming of that so much threatned knight; Into the life of bis malignant foe;
Where that discourteous dame with scornfull pryde They hew'd their helmes, and plates asunder brake,
And fowle entreaty him indignifyde,

As they had potshares bene; fur nought mote slake
That yron heart it hardly could sustaine :

Their greedy vengeaunces but goary blood;
Yet he, that could his wrath full wisely guyde, That at the last like to a purple lake
Did well endure her womanish disdaine,

Of bloudy gore congeal'd about them stood,
And did himselfe from fraile impatience refraine, Which from their riven sides forth gushed like a food.
The morrow next, before the lampe of light

At length it chaupst that both their hands on hie
Above the Earth upreard his famiug head,

At once did heave with all their powre and might,
The dwarfe, which bore that message to her knight, Thinking the utmost of their force to trie,
Brought aunswere backe, that cre he tasted bread And prove the finall fortune of the fight;
He would her succour, and alive or dead

But Calidore, that was more quicke of sight
Her foe deliver up into her hand :

And nimbler-handed then his enemie, Therefore he wil'd her doe away all dread; Prevented him before his stroke could light, And, that of him she mote assured stand,

And on the helmet smote him formerlie, (militie: He sent to her his basenet as a faithfull band. That made him stoupe to ground with meeke huThereof full blyth the ladie streight became,

And, ere he could recover foote againe, And gan t'augment her bitternesse much more:

He following that faire advantage fast Yet no whit more appalled for the same,

His stroke redoubled with such might and maine,

That him upon the ground he groveling cast;
Ne ought dismayed was sir Calidore;
But rather did more chearefull seeme therefore :

And leaping to him light would have unlast

His helme, to make unto his vengeance way:
And, having soone his armes about him dignt,
Did issue forth to meete his foe afore;

Who, seeing in what daunger he was plast,
Where long he stayed not, whenas a knight

Cryde out; “ Ab mercie, sir! doe me not slay, He spide come pricking on with all his powre and

But save my life, which lot before your foot doth

lay." might.

With that his mortall hand awhile he stayd ; Well weend he streight that he should be the same

And, having somewhat calm’d his wrathfull heat Which tooke in hand her quarrell to maintaine;

With goodly patience, thus he to him sayd ; Ne stayd to aske if it were he by name,

“ And is the boast of that proud ladies threat, But coucht his speare, and ran at him amaine.

That menaced me from the field to beat, They bene ymeti in middest of the plaine

Now brought to this? By this now may ye learne With so fell fury and dispiteous forse,

Strangers no more so rudely to entreat ; That neither could the others stroke sustaine,

But put away proud looke and usage sterne, But rudely rowld to ground both man and horse,

The which shal nought to you but foule dishonour Neither of other taking pitty nor remorse.

yearne. But Calidore uprose againe full light,

“ For nothing is more blamefull to a knight,
Whiles yet his foe lay fast in sencelesse sound; That cout’sie doth as well as armes professe,
Yet would he nyt him hurt although he might: However strong and fortunate in fight,
For shame he weend a sleeping wight to wound. Then the reproch of pride and cruelnesse :
But when Briana saw that drery stound,

in vaine he seeketh others to suppresse,
There where she stood uppon the castle wall, Who hath not learnd himselfe first to subdew :
She deem'd him sure to have bene dead on ground; | All Acsh is frayle and full of ficklenesse,
And made such piteous inourning therewithall, Subiect to fortunes chance, still chaunging new;
That from the battlements she ready seem'd to fall. What haps to day to me to morrow may to you,

1

1

" Who will not mercie unto others shew,
How can he mercie ever hope to have?

CANTO II.
To pay each with his owne is right and dew:
Yet since ye mercie now doe need to crave,

Calidore sees young Tristram slay
I will it graunt, your hopelesse life to save,

A proud discourteous knight: With these conditions which I will propound:

He makes him squire, and of him learnes First, that ye better shall yourselfe behave

His state and present plight.
Unto all errant knights, whereso on ground;
Next, that ye ladies ayde in every stead and stound.” What vertue is so fitting for a knight,

Or for a ladie whom a knight should love,
The wretched man, that all this while did dwell As curtesie ; to beare themselves aright
In dread of death, his heasts did gladly heare, To all of each degree as doth behove?
And promist to performe his precept well,

For whether they be placed high above And whatsoever else he would requere.

Or low beneath, yet ought they well to know So, sufiring him to rise, he made him sweare Their good; that none them rightly may reprove By his owne sword, and by the crosse thereon, Of rudenesse for not yeelding what they owe: To take Briana for his loving fere

Great skill it is such duties timely to bestow. Withouten dowre or composition; But to release his former foule condition.

Thereto great helpe dame Nature selfe doth lend :

Por soine so goodly gratious are by kind, All which accepting, and with faithfull oth That every action doth them much commend, Bynding himselfe most firmely to obay,

And in the eyes of men great liking find; He up arose, however liefe or loth,

Which others that bave greater skill in mind, And swore to him true fëaltie for aye.

Though they enforce themselves, cannot attaine: Then forth he cald from sorrow full dismay

Por everie thing, to which one is inclin'd, The sad Briana which all this behed;

Doth best become and greatest grace doth gaine: Who coinming forth yet full of late affray

Yet praise likewise deserve good thewes enforst with Sir Calidore npcheard, and to her teld

paine. All this accord to which he Crudor had compeld.

That well in courteous Calidore appeares; Whereof she now more glad then sory earst, Whose every act and deed, that he did say, All overcome with infinite affect

Was like enchantment, that through both the eyes For his exceeding comtesie, that pearst

And both the eares did steale the hart away. Her stubborne hart with inward deepe effect, He now againe is on his former way Before his feet herselfe she did proiect;

To follow his first quest, whenas he spyde And him adoring as her lives deare lord,

A tall young man, from thence not farre away, With all dae thankes and dutifull respect,

Fighting on foot, as well he him descryde, Herselfe acknowledg'd bound for that accord, Against an armed knight that did on horsebacke By which he had to her both life and love restord.

ryde. So all returning to the castle glad,

And them beside a ladie faire he saw Most ioyfully she them did entertaine ;

Standing alone on foote in foule array; Where goodly glee and feast to them she made, To whom bimselfe he hastily did draw To shew her thankefull mind and meaning faine, To weet the cause of so uncomely fray, By all the meanes she mote it best explaine: And to depart them, if so be he may: And, after all, unto sir Calidore

But, ere he came in place, that youth had kild She freely gave that castle for his paine,

That armed knight, that low on ground he lay; And herselfe bound to him for evermore;

Which when be saw, his bart was inly child So wondrously now chaung'd from that she was With great amazement, and bis thought with wonafore.

der fild.

But Calidore himselfe would not retaine
Nor land nor fre 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 wounds he wexed hole and strong ;
And then to his first quest he passed forth along.

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 tall and faire of face,
That sure he deem'd him borne of noble race:
All in a woodmans jacket he was clad
Of Lincolne greene, belayd with silver lace;
And on luis 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 band 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

VOL. III.

Whom Calidore awhile well having vewed, (swaine! | Of all which whenas she could nought deny,
At length bespake; “What meanes this, gentle But cleard that stripling of th' imputed blame ;
Why hath thy hand too bold itselfe embrewed Sayd then sir Calidore; " Neither will I
In blood of knight, the which by thee is slaine, Him charge with guilt, but rather doe quite clame:
By thee no knight: which armes impugneth plaine!" For, what he spake, for you he spake it, dame;
" Certes,” said he, "loth were I to have broken And what he did, he did himselfe to save: (shame:
The law of armes; yet breake it should againe, Against both which that knight wrought knightlesse,
Rather then let myselfe of wight be stroken, For knights and all men this by nature have,
So long as these two armes were able to be wroken. Towards all womenkind them kindly to behave,
“ For not I him, as this his ladie here

" But, sith that he is gone irrevocable,
May witnesse well, did offer first to wrong, Please it you, ladie, to ns to aread
Ne surely thus unari'd I likely were ;

What cause could make him so dishonourable, But he me first through pride and puissance strong To drive you so on foot, unfit to tread Assayld, not knowing what to armes doth long." And lackey by him, gainst all womanhead.” “ Perdie great blame," then said sir Calidore, “ Certes, sir Knight,” sayd she, “fuli loth I were, “ For armed knight a wight unarm'd to wrong: To rayse a lyving blame against the dead: But then aread, thou gentle chyld, wherefore But, since it me concernes myselfe to clere, Betwixt you two began this strife and sterne uprore.” I will the truth discover as it chaunst whylere. “ That shall I sooth," said he,“ to you declare. “ This day, as be and I together roadc. I, whose unryper yeares are yet unfit

Upon our way to which we weren bent,
For thing of weight or worke of greater care, We chaunst to come foreby a covert glade
Doe spend my dayes and bend my carelesse wit Within a wood, whereas a ladie gent
To salvage chace, where I thereon may hit Sate with a knight in ioyous jolliment
In all this forrest and wyld woodie raine:

Of their franke loves, free from all gealous spyes; Where, as this day I was enraunging it,

Faire was the ladie sure, that mote content I chaunst to meet this knight who there lyes slaine, An hart not carried with too curious eyes, Together with this ladie, passing on the plaine. And unto him did shew all lovely courtesyes. “ The knight, as ye did see, on horsebacke was, “ Whom when my knight did see so lovely faire, And this his ladie, that him ill became,

He inly gan her lover to envy, On her faire feet by his horse-side did pas And wish that be part of his spoyle might share: Through thicke and thin, unfit for any dame: Whereto whenas my presence he did spy Yet not content, more to increase his shame, To be a let, he bad me by and by Whenso she laggcd, as she needs mote so,

For to alight : but, whepas I was loth He with his speare (that was to him great blame) My loves owne part to leave so suddenly, Would thumpe her forward and inforce to goe, He with strong hand down from his steed me Weeping to him in vaine and making piteous woe.

throw'th,

(streight go'th.

And with presumpteous powre against that knight " Which when I saw, as they me passed by, Much was I moved in indignant mind,

Unarm'd all was the knight, as then more meete. And gan to blame him for such cruelty

For ladies service and for loves delight, Towards a ladie, whom with usage kind

Then fearing any foeman there to meete: He rather should have taken up bebind.

Whereof be taking oddes, streight bids him dight Wherewith he wroth and full of proud disdaine Himselfe to yeeld his love or else to fight; Tooke in foule score that I such fault did find, Whereat the other starting up dismayd, And me in lieu thereof revil'd againe,

Yet boldly answer'd, as he rightly might, Threatning to chástize me, as doth t'a chyld pertaine. To leave his love he should be ill apayd, [sayd.

In which he had good right gaynst all that it gaine“ Which, I no lesse disdayning, backe returned His scornefull taunts unto his teeth aga ne, “ Yet since he was not presently in plight That he streghtway with haughtie choler burned, Her to defend, or his to iustifie, And with his speare strooke me one stroke or twaine; He him requested, as he was a knight, Which I, enforst to beare though to my paine, To lend him day his better right to trie, Cast to requite; and with a slender dart, Or stay till he his armes, which were thereby, Fellow of this I beare, throwne not in vaine, Might lightly fetch : but he was fierce and whot, Strooke him, as seemeth, underneath the hart, Ne time would give, nor any termes aby, That through the wound his spirit shortly did de- But at him flew, and with his speare him smot; part.”

From which to thinke to save himselfe it booted pot. Much did sir Calidore admyre bis speach

“ Meane while his ladie, which this outrage saw, Tempred so well, but more admyr'd the stroke Wbilest they together for the quarrey strove, That through the mayles had made so strong a Into the covert did herselfe withdraw, Into his hart, and had so sternely wroke [breach And closely hid herselfe within the grove. His wrath on him that first occasion broke: My knight hers soone, as seemes, to daunger drove Yet rested not, but further gan inquire

And left sore wounded: but, when her he mist, Of that same ladie, whether what he spoke He woxe halfe mad; and in that rage gan rove Were soothly so, and that th' unrighteous ire And range through all the wood, whereso he wist of her owne knight had given him his owne due hire. She hidden was, and sought her so long as him list.

« But, whenas her he by no meanes could find, “ And Tristram is my name; the onely heire
After long search and chauff he turned backe of good king Meliogras which did rayue
Unto the place where me he left behind : In Cornewale, till that he through lives despeire
There gan he me to curse and ban, for lacke Untimely dyde, before I did attaine
Of that faire bootie, and with bitter wracke Ripe yeares of reason, my right to maintaine:
To wreake on me the guilt of his owne wrong : After whose death his brother, seeing mee
Of all which I yet glad to beare the packe An infant, weake a kingdome to sustaine,
Strove to appease him, and perswaded long ; Upon him tooke the roiall high degree,
But still his passion grew more violent and strong. And sent me, where him list, instructed for to bee.
“ Then, as it were t'avenge his wrath on mee, “ The widow queene my mother, which then hight
When forward we should fare, he flat refused Faire Emiline, conceiving then great feare
To take me up (as this young man did see) Of my fraile safetie, resting in the might
Upon his steed, for no just cause accused, Of him that did the kingly scepter beare,
But forst to trot on foot, and foule misused, Whose gealous dread induring uot a peare
Pounching me with the butt-end of his speare, Is wont to cut off all that doubt may breed;
In vaine complayning to be so abused;

Thought best away me to remove somewhere
For he regarded neither playnt nor teare, [heare. Into some forrein land, whereas no need
Båt more enforst my paine, the more my plaints to Of dreaded daunger might his doubtfull humor feed.
“ So passed we, till this young man us met;

So, taking counsell of a wise man red, And being moor'd with pittie of my plight

She was by him adviz'd to send me quight Spake, as was meete, for ease of my regret: Out of the countrie wherein I was bred, Whereof befell what now is in your sight." The which the Fertile Lionesse is hight, “ Now sure," then said sir Calidore, “and right Into the land of Faerie, where no wight Me seemes, that him beféll by his owne fault: Should weet of me, nor worke me any wrong: Whoever thinkes through confidence of might, To whose wise read she hearkning sent me streight Or through support of count'nance proud and hault, Into this land, where I have wond thus long (strong. To wrong the weaker, oft falles in his owne assault." Since I was ten yeares old, now grown to stature Then turning backe unto that gentle boy,

“ All which my daies I have not lewdly spent, Which had himselfe so stoutly well acquit; Nor spilt the blossome of my tender yeares Seeing his face so lovely sterne and coy,

In ydlesse; but, as was convenient, And hearing th' answeres of his pregnant wit, Have trayned bene with many noble feres He praysd it much, and much admyred it; In gentle thewes and such like seemly leres: That sure he weened him born of noble blood, Mongst which my most delight hath alwaies been With whom those graces did so goodly fit: To hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peres, And, when he long had him beholding stood, Of all that raungeth in the forrest greene, He burst into these wordes, as to him seemed good; Of which none is to me unknowne that ev'r was seene. “ Faire gentle swayne, and yet as stout as fayre, “ Ne is there hauke which mantleth her on pearch, That in these woods amongst the nymphs dost wonne, Whether high towring or accoasting low, Which daily may to thy sweete lookes repayre, But I the measure of her flight doe search, As they are wont unto Latonaes sonne

And all her pray and all her diet know: After his chace on woodie Cynthus donne;

Such be our ioyes which in these forrests grow: Well may I certes such an one thee read, Onely the use of armes, which most I joy, As by thy worth thou worthily hast wonne, And fitteth most for noble swayne to know, Or surely borne of some heroicke sead,

I have not tasted yet; yet past a boy, [imploy. That in thy face appeares and gratious goodlyhead. And being now high time these strong ioynts to “ But, should it not displease thee it to tell, “ Therefore, good sir, sith now occasion fit (Unlesse thou in these woods thyselfe conceale Doth fall, whose like hereafter seldome may, Por love amongst the woodie gods to dwell,) Let me this crave, unworthy though of it, I would thyselfe require thee to reveale;

That ye will make me squire without delay, For deare affection and unfayned zeale

That from henceforth in batteilous array Which to thy noble personage I beare,

I may beare armes, and learne to use them right; And wish thee grow in worship and great weale: The rather, since that fortune bath this day For, since the day that armes I first did reare, Given to me the spoile of this dead knight, I never saw in any greater hope appeare.” These goodly gilden armes wbich I have won in

fight.” To whom then thus the noble youth; May be, Sir Knight, that, by discovering my estate,

All which when well sir Calidore had heard, Harme may arise unweeting unto me;

Him much more now, then earst, be gan admire Nathelesse, sith ye so courteous seemned late, For the rare hope which in his yeares appear'd, To you I will not feare it to relate.

And thus replide; “ Faire chyld, the high desire Then wote ye that I am a Briton borne,

Tó love of armes, which in you doth aspire, Sonne of a king, (however thorough fate

I may not certes without blame denie; Or fortune I my countrie have forlone,

But rather wish that some more noble hire And lost the crowne which should my head by right (Though none more noble then is chevalrie) adorue,)

i had, you to reward with greater dignitie."