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Yet armes or weapon had he none to fight, But the wyld man, contrárie to her feare,
Ne knew the use of warlike instruments,

Came to her creeping like a fawning hound,
Save such as sudden rage bim lent to smite ; And by rude tokens made to her appeare
But naked, without needfull vestiments

His deepe compassion of her dolefull stound, To clad his corpse with meete babiliments, Kissing his hands, and crouching to the ground; He cared not for dint of sword nor speere, For other language bad he none nor speach, No more then for the stroke of strawes or bents : But a soft murmure and confused sound For from his mothers wombe, which him did beare, of senselesse words (which Nature did him teach He was invulnerable made by magicke leare. T'expresse his passions) which his reason did em

peach: He stayed not t’advize which way were best His foe t' assayle, or how himselfe to gard,

And comming likewise to the wounded knight,

When he beheld the streames of purple bloud But with fierce fury and with force infest Upon him ran; who being well prepard

Yet flowing fresh, as moved with the sight, His first assault full warily did ward,

He made great mone after his salvage mood; And with the push of his sharp-pointed speare

And, running streight into the thickest wood, Full on the breast him strooke, so strong and hard a certaine herbe from thence unto him brought, That forst him backe recoyle and reele areare ;

Whose vertue be by use well understood; Yet in his bodie made no wound nor bloud appeare. And stopt the bleeding straight, ere he it staunched

The iuyce whereof into his wound he wrought, With that the wyld man more enraged grew,

thought. Like to a tygre that hath mist his pray,

Then taking up that recreants shield and speare, And with mad moode againe upon him few, Which earst he left, he signes unto them made Regarding neither speare that mote him slay, With him to wend unto his wonning neare; Nor his fierce steed that mote hiin much dismay: To which he easily did them perswade. The salvage nation doth all dread despize: Farre in the forrest, by a hollow glade Tho on his shield he griple hold did lay,

Covered with mossie shrubs, which spredding brode And held the same so hard, that by no wize Did underneath them make a glo my shade, He could him force to loose, or leave his enterprize. Where foot of living creature nerer trole,

Ne scarse wyld beasts durst come, there was this Long did he wrest and wring it to and fro,

wights abode. And every way did try, but all in vaine ;

Thither be brought these unacquainted guests; For he would not his greedie grype forgoe,

To whom faire semblance, as he could, he shewed But hayld and puld with all his might and maine, That from his steed him nigh he drew againe:

By signes, by lookes, and all bis other gests:

But the bare ground with hoarie mosse bestrowed Who having now no use of bis long speare

Must be their bed; their pillow was unsowed ; So nigh at hand, nor force his shield to straine,

And the frutes of the forrest was their feast : Both speare and shield, as things that needlesse were,

For their bad stuard neither plough'd nor sowed, He quite forsooke, and fled himselfe away for feart.

Ne fed on flesh, ne ever of wild beast

Did taste the bloud, obaying Natures first beheast. * But after him the wyld man ran apace, And him pursewed with importune speed,

Yet, howsoever base and meane it were, For he was swift as any bucke in chace;

They tooke it well, and thanked God for all, And, had he not in his extreamest need

Which had them freëd from that deadly feare, Bene helped through the swiftnesse of his steed, And sav'd from being to that caytive thrall. He had bim overtaken in his flight.

Here they of force (as fortune now did fall) Who, ever as he saw him nigh succeed,

Coinpeled were themselves awhile to rest, Gan cry aloud with horrible affright,

Glad of that easement, though it were but small; And shrieked out; a thing uncomely for a knight. That, having there their wounds awhile redrest,

They mote the abler be to passe unto the rest. But, when the salvage saw his labour vaine In following of him that Aed so fast,

During which time that wyld man did apply

His best endevour and his daily paine
He wearie woxe, and backe return'd againe
With speede unto the place, whereas he last

In seeking all the woods both farre and nye
Had left that couple nere their utmost cast:

For herbes to dresse their wounds; still seeming faine There he that knight full sorely bleeding found,

When ought he did, that did their lyking gaine. And eke the ladie fearefully aghast,

So as ere long he had that knightës wound

Recured well, and made him whole againe : Both for the perill of the present stound, And also for the sharpnesse of her rankling wound: Which could redresse, for it was inwardly unsound.

But that same ladies burts no herbe he found For though she were right glad so rid to bee Now whenas Calepine was woxen strong, From that vile lozell which her late offended; Upon a day he cast abrode to wend, Yet now no lesse encombrance she did see

To take the ayre and heare the tbrushes song, And perill, by this salvage man pretended; C'narm’d, as fearing neither foe nor frend, Gainst whom she saw no meanes to be defended And without sword his person to defend ; By reason that her knight was wounded sore: There him befell, unlooked for before, Therefore herselfe she wholy recoinmended An bard adventure with unhappie end, To Gods sole grace, whom she did oft implore A cruell beare, the which an infant bore, To send ner succour, being of all hope forlore. Betwixt his bloodie iawes, besprinckled all with gore. The litle babe did loudly scrike and squall, Much was he then encombred, he coald tell And all the woods with piteous plaints did all, Which way to take: now west he went awhile, As if his cry did meane for helpe to call

Then north, then neither, but as fortune fell: To Calepine, whose eares those shrieches shrill, So up and downe he wandred many a mile Percing his hart, with pities point did thrill; With wearie travell and uncertaine toile, That after him be ran with zealous haste

Yet nought the nearer to his journeys end; To rescue tb'infant, ere he did him kill:

And evermore his lovely litle spoile Whom though he saw now somewhat overpast, Crying for food did greatly him offend : Yet by the cry ke follow'd, and pursewed fast. So all that day, in wandring, vainely he did spend. Well then him chaunst his heary armes to want, At last, about the setting of the Sunne, Whose burden mote empeach his needfull speed, Himselfe out of the forest he did wynd, And hinder him from libertie to pant:

And by good fortune the plaine champion wonne : For having long time, as his daily weed,

Where, looking all about where he mote fynd Them wont to weare, and wend on foot for need, Some place of succour to content his mynd, Now wanting them he felt himselfe so light, At length he heard under the forrests syde That like an hauke, which feeling herselfe freed A voice, that seemd of some womankynd, From bels and iesses which did let her flight, Which to herselfe lamenting loudly cryde, Him seem'd his feet did fly and in their speed de- And oft complayu'd of fate, and fortune oft defyde.

light. So well he sped him, that the wearie beare

To whom approaching, whenas she perceived

A stranger wight in place, her plaint she stayd, Ere long be overtooke and forst to stay;

As if she doubted to have bene deceived, And, without weapon him assayling neare,

Or loth to let her sorrowes be bewrayd : Compeld him soone the spoyle adowne to lay.

Whom whenas Calepine saw so dismayd, Wherewith the beast enrag'd to loose his pray

He to her drew, and, with faire blandishment Upon him turned, and, with greedie force

Her chearing up, thus gently to her sayd ; And furie, to be crossed in his way,

“ What be you, wofull dame, which thus lament, Gaping full wyde, did thinke without remorse To be aveng'd on him and to devoure his corse.

And for what cause, declare ; so mote ye not re

pent." But the bold knight no whit thereat dismayd,

To whom she thus ; " What need me, sir, to tell But catching up in hand a ragged stone Which lay thereby (so fortune him did ayde)

That which yourself have earst ared so right?

A wofull dame ye bave me termed well ;
Upon him ran, and thrust it all attone
Into his gaping throte, that made him grone

So much more wofull, as my wofull plight

Cannot redressed be by living wight !" And gaspe for breath, that he nigh choked was,

“ Nathlesse," quoth he, “if need doe not you bynd, Being nnable to digest that bone ;

Doe it disclose, to ease your grieved spright: Ne could it upward come, nor downward passe, Ne could be brooke the coldnesse of the stony masse.

Oftimes it haps that sorrowes of the mynd

Find remedie unsought, which seeking cannot fynd." Whom whenas he thus combred did behold, Stryving in vaine that nigh his bowels brast,

Then thus began the lamentable dame; He with him closd, and, laying mightie bold

“ Sith then ye needs will know the griefe I hoord, Upon bis throte, did gripe his gorge so fast,

I am th' unfortunate Matilde by name,
That wanting breath him downe to ground he cast; Of all this land, late conquer'd by his sword

The wife of bold sir Bruin, who is lord
And, then oppressing him with urgent paine,
Ere long enforst to breath his utmost blast,

From a great gyant, called Cormoraunt,
Gnashing his cruell teeth at him in vaine,

Whom he did overthrow by yonder foord;
And threatning his sharpe clawes, now wanting that he dare not returne for all his daily vaunt.

And in three battailes did so deadly daunt,
powre to straine.
Then tooke he up betwixt his armës twaine “ So is my lord now seiz'd of all the land,
The litle babe, sweet relickes of his pray;

As in his fee, with peaceable estate,
Whom pitying to heare so sore complaine,

And quietly doth hold it in his hand, From his soft eyes the teares he wypt away,

Ne any dares with him for it debate : And from his face the filtb that did it ray;

But to these happie fortunes cruell fate And every litle limbe he searcht around,

Hath joyn'd one evill, which doth overthrow And every part that under sweath-bands lay,

All these our ioyes, and all our blisse abate ; Least that the beasts sharpe teeth had any wound

And like in time to further ill to grow, Made in his tender flesh, but wbole them all he found. And all this land with endlesse losse to over-dow. So, having all his bands againe uptyde,

“ For th' Heavens, envying our prosperitie, He with him thought backe to returne againe; Have not vouchsaft to graunt unto us twaine But when he lookt about on every syde,

The gladfull blessing of posteritie, To weet which way were best to entertaine Which we might see after ourselves remaine To bring him to the place where he would faine, In th' heritage of our unhappie paine : He could no path nor tract of foot descry, So that for want of heires it to defend, Ne by inquirie learne, nor ghesse by ayme; All is in time like to returne againe Por nonght but woods and forrests farre and nye, To that foule feend, who dayly doth attendi That all about did close the compasse of his eye. To leape into the same after our livës end.

“ But most my lord is grieved herewithall, But Calepine, now being left alone
And makes exceeding mone, when he does thinke Under the greenewoods side in sorie plight,
That all this land unto his foe shall fall,

Withouten armes or steede to ride upon,
For which he long in va ne did sweat and swinke, Or house to hide his head from Heavens spight;
That now the same he greatly doth forthinke. Albe that dame, by all the meanes she might,
Yet was it sayd, there should to him a sonne

Him oft desired home with her to wend, Be gotten, not begotten ; which should drinke And offred him, his courtesie to reqaite, And dry up all the water which doth ronne [donne. Both horse and armes and whatso else to lend, In the next brooke, by whom that feend should be for- Yet he them all refusd, though thankt her as a frend; “ Well hop't be then, when this was propheside, And, for exceeding griefe which inly grew, That from his side some noble chyld should rize,

That he his love so lucklesse now had lost, The which through fame should farre be magnifide, On the cold ground maugre himselfe he throw And this proud gyant should with brave emprize For fell despigbt, to be so sorely crost; Quite overthrow, who now ginpes to despize And there all night himseife in anguish tost, The goud sir Bruin growing farre in years, Vowing that never he in bed againe Whó thinkes from me his sorrow all doth rize.

His limbes would rest, ne lig iu ease embost,
Lo! this my cause of griefe to you appeares; Till that bis ladies sight he mote attaine,
For which I thus doe mourne, and poure forth cease. Or understand that she in safetie did remaine.

Jesse teares."
Which when he heard, he inly touched was
With tender ruth for her unworthy griefe;
And, when he had devized of her case,

He gan in mind conceive a fit reliefe
For all her paine, if please her make the priefe:
And, having cheared her, thus said;

“ Faire dame,

The salvage serves Serena well,

Till she prince Arthóire fynd; In evils counsell is the comfort chiefe;

Who her, together with his squyre, Which though I be not wise enough to frame,

With the hermit leaves behynd.
Yet, as I well it meane, vouchsafe it without blame.
“ If that the cause of this your languishment O

WHAT an easie thing is to descry
Be lacke of children to supply your place, The gentle bloud, however it be wrapt
Lo! how good fortune doth to you present In sad misfortunes foule deformity
This litle babe, of sweete and lovely face,

And wretched sorrowes, which have often hapt ! And spotlesse spirit in which ye may enchace For howsoever it may grow mis-shapt, Whatever formes ye list thereto apply,

Like this wyld man being undisciplynd, Being now soft and fit them to embrace;

That to all vertue it may seeme unapt ; Whether ye list bim traine in cheyalry,

Yet will it shew some sparkes of gentle mynd, Or noursle up in lore of learn'd philosophy, And at the last breake forthin his owne proper kynd. « And, certes, it hath oftentimes bene seene,

That plainely may in this wyld man be red, That of the like, whose linage was unknowne,

Who, though he were still in this desert wood, More brave and noble knights haye raysed beene

Mongst salvage beasts, both rudely borne and bred, (As their victorious deedes have often showen,

Ne ever saw faire guize, ne learned good, Being with fame through many nations blowen)

Yet shewd some token of his gentle blood Then those which have bene dandled in the lap,

By gentle usage of that wretched dame : Therefore some thought that those brave imps were

For rtes he was borne of noble blood,

However by hard hap he hether came; Here by the gods, and fed with heavenly sap, That made them grow so high e' all honorable hap." As ye may know, when time shall be to tell the sanie. The ladie, hearkning to his sensefull speach,

Who, whenas now long time he lacked had Found nothing that he said unmeet nor geason,

The good sir Calepine, that farre was strayd, Having oft seene it tryde as he did teach:

Did wexe exceeding sorrowfull and sad, Therefore inclyning to his goodly reason,

As he of some misfortune were afrayd; Agreeing well both with the place and season,

And, leaving there this ladie all dismayd, She gladly did of that same babe accept,

Went forth streightway into the forrest wyde As of her owne by liverey and seisin;

To seeke if he perchance asleep were layd, And, having over it a litle wept,

Or whatso else were unto him betyde : She bore it thence, and ever as her owne it kept.

He sought him farre and neare, yet him no where

he spyde.
Right glad was Calepine to be so rid
Of his young charge whereof he skilled nought; Tho, backe returning to that sprie dame,
Ne she lesse glad; for she so wisely did,

He shewed semblant of exceeding mone
And with her husband under hand so wrought, By speaking signes, as he them best could frame;
That, when that infant nnto him she brought, Now wringing both his wretched hands in one,
She made him think it surely was his owne; Now beating his hard head upon a stone,
And it in goodly thewes so well upbrought, That ruth it was to see him so lament:
That it became a famous knight well kņowne, By which she well perceiving what was done,
And did right noble deedes; the which elswhere Gan teare her hayre, and all her garments rent,
are showne.

And beat her breast, and piteously herselfe torment.


Upon the ground herselfe she fiercely threw, After that Timjas had againe recured
Regardlesse of her wounds yet bleeding rife, The favour of Belphebe, as ye heard,
That with their bloud did all the fiore imbrew, And of her grace did stand againe assured,
As if her breast new launcht with murdrous knife To bappie blisse he was full high upreard,
Would streight dislodge the wretched wearie life: Nether of envy nor of chaunge afеard :
There she long groveling and deepe groning lay, Though many foes did him maligne therefore,
As if her vitall powers were at strife

And with uniust detraction him did beard ;
With stronger death, and feared their decay: Yet he himselfe so well and wisely bore,
Sucb were this ladies pangs and dolorous assay. That in her soveraine lyking he dwelt evermore.
Wbom when the salvage saw so sore distrest,

But, of them all which did his ruine seeke, He reared her up from the bloudie ground,

Three mightie enemies did him most despight, And sought, by all the meanes that he could best, That him not onely sought by open might

Three inightie ones, and cruell minded eeke,
Her to recure out of that stony swound,
And staunch the bleeding of her dreary wound:

To overthrow, but to supplant by slight:
Yet nould she be recomforted for nought,

The first of them by name was cald Despetto, Nor cease her sorrow and impatient stound,

Exceeding all the rest in powre and hight; But day and night did wexe her carefull thought,

The second, not so strong but wise, Decetto; And ever more and more her owne aftliction wrought. The third, nor strong nor wise but spightfullest,

Defetto. At length, whenas no hope of his retourne

Oftimes their sundry powres they did employ, She saw now left, she cast to leave the place,

And several deceipts, but all in vaine ; And wend abrude, though feeble and forlorne,

For neither they by force could him destroy, To seeke some comfort in that sorie case:

Ne yet entrap in treasons subtill traine : His steede, now strong through rest so long a space, Therefore, conspiring all together plaine, Well as she could she got, and did bedight;

They did their counsels now in one compound: And being thereon mounted forth did pace

Where singled forces faile, conioynd may gaive. Withouten guide her to conduct aright,

The Blatant Beast the fittest meanes they found Or guard her to defend from bold oppressors might. To worke his utter shame, and throughly him con

found. Whom when her host saw readie to depart, He would not suffer her alone to fare,

Upon a day, as they the time did waite But gan himselfe addresse to take her part.

When he did raunge the wood for salvage game, Those warlike armes, which Calepine whyleare

They sent that Blatant Beast to be a baite Had left behind, he gan eftsoones prepare,

To draw him from his deare beloved dame And put them all about himself unfit,

Unwares into the daunger of defame: His shield, his helmet, and his curats bare,

For well they wist that squire to be so bold, But without sword upon his thigh to sit :

That no one beast in forrest wylde or tame Sir Calepine himselfe away had hidden it.

Met him in chase, but he it challenge would, [hould.

And plucke the pray oftimes out of their greedy So forth they traveld an uneven payre,

The hardy boy, as they devised had, That mote to all men seeme an uncouth sight; Seeing the ugly monster passing by, A salvage man matcht with a ladie fayre

Upon him set, of perill nought adrad, That rather seem'd the conquest of his might Ne skilfull of the uncouth jeopardy; Gotten by spoyle then purchaсed aright:

And charged him so fierce and furiously, But he did her attend most carefully,

That, his great force unable to endure, And faithfully did serve both day and night He forced was to turne from him and fly: Withouten thought of shame or villeny,

Yet, ere he fled, he with his tooth impure Ne ever shewed signe of foule disloyalty.

Him heedlesse bit, the wbiles he was thereof secure.

Securely he did after him pursew,
Upon a day, as on their way they went,

Thinking by speed to overtake his flight;
It channst some furniture about her steed
To be disordred by some accident;

Who through thicke woods and brakes and briers

him drew, Which to redresse sbe did th' assistance need

Of this her groome ; which he by signes did reede; So that he now has almost spent his spright:

weary him the more and waste his spight, And streight his combrous armes aside did lay

Till that at length unto a woody glade Upon the ground, withouten doubt or dreed;

He came, whose covert stopt his further sight; And, in his homely wize, began to assay T' amend what was amisse, and put in right aray. Out of their ambush broke, and gan him to invade.

There his three foes shrowded in guilefull shade Bout which whilest he was busied thus hard, Sharpely they all attonce did him assaile, Lo! where a knight, together with his squire, Burning with inward rancour and despight, All arm'd to point came ryding thetherward; And heaped strokes did round about him haile Which seemed, by their portance and attire, With so huge force, that seemed nothing might To be two errant knights, that did inquire

Beare off their blowes from percing thorough quite: After adventures, wbere they mote them get: Yet he them all so warily did ward, Those were to weet (if that ye it require)

That none of them in his soft flesh did bite; Prince Arthur and young Timias, which met And all the while bis backe for best safegard By straunge occasjön, that here needs forth be set. He lent against a tree, that backeward onset barda

Like a wylde bull, that, being at a bay,

Gnashing his grinded teeth with griesly looke, Is bayted of a mastiffe and a hound

And sparkling fire out of his furious eyne, And a curre-dog, that doe him sharpe assay Him with his fist unwares on th' head he strooke, On every side, and beat about him round; That made him downe unto the earth encline; Bat most that curre, barking with bitter sownd, Whence soone upstarting, much he gan repine, And creeping still behinde, doth him incomber, And laying hand upon his wrathfull blade That in his chauffe he digs the trampled ground, Thought therewithall forthwith him to have slaine; And threats bis horns, and bellowes like the thonder: Who it perceiving hand upon him layd, So did that squire his foes disperse and drive asоnder. And greedily him griping his avengement stayd. Him well behoved so; for his three foes

With that aloude the faire Serena cryde Sought to encompasse him on every side,

Unto the knight, them to dispart in twaine : And dangerously did round about enclose: Who to them stepping did them soone divide, But, most of all, Defetto him annoyde,

And did from further violence restraine, Creeping behinde him still to have destroyde; Albe the wyld man hardly would refraine. So did Decetto eke him circumvent;

Then gan the prince of her for to demand But stout Despetto in his greater pryde

What and from whence she was; and by what traine • Did front him, face to face against him bent: She fell into that salvage villaines hand;

Yet he them all withstood, and often made relent. And whether free with him she now were, orin band. Till that at length nigh tyrd with former chace,

To whom she thus; “ I am, as now ye see, And weary now with carefull keeping ward, The wretchedst dame that lives this day on ground, He gan to shrinke and somewhat to give place, Who both in minde (the which most grieveth me) Full like ere long to have escaped hard ;

And body bave receiv'd a mortall wound,
Whenas unwares he in the forrest heard

That hath me driven to this drery stound.
A trampling steede, that with his neighing fast I was erewhile the lore of Calepine ;
Did warne his rider be uppon his gard;

Who whether be alive be to be found,
With noise whereof the squire, now nigh aghast, Or by some deadly chaunce be done to pine,
Revived was, and sad dispaire away did cast. Since I him lately lost, uneath is to define.
Eftsoones he spide a knight approching nye;

“ In salvage forrest I him lost of late, Who, seeing one in so great daunger set

Where I had surely long ere this bene dead, Mongst many foes, bimself did faster hye

Or else remained in most wretched state, To reskue him, and his weake part abet,

Had not this wylde man in that wofull stead For pitty so to see him overset:

Kept and delivered me from deadly dread. Whom soone as his three enemies did vew,

In such a salvage wight, of brutish kynd, They fled, and fast into the wood did get: Amongst wilde beastes in desert forrests bred, Him booted not to thinke titem to pursew; It is most straunge and wonderful to fynd The covert was so thicke, that did no passage shew. So milde humanity and perfect gentle mynd. Then, turning to that swainc, him well he knew “ Let me therefore this favour for him finde, To be his Timias, his owne true squire;

That ye will not your wrath upon him wreake, Whereof exceeding glad, he to him drew,

Sith he cannot expresse his simple minde, And, him embracing twixt his armes entire, Ne yours conceive, ne but by tokens speake: Him thus bespake; “ My liefe, my lifes desire, Small praise to prove your powre on wight so weake!" Why have ye me alone thus long yleft?

With such faire words she did their heate asswage, Tell me what worlds despight, or Heavens yre, And the strong course of their displeasure breake, Hath you thus long away from me bereft? That they to pitty turnd their former rage, Where have ye all this while bin wandring, where and each sought to supply the office of her page. bene weft ?"

So, having all things well about her dight, With that he sighed deepe for inward tyne : She on her way cast forward to proceede; To whom the squire nought aunswered againe, And they her forth conducted, where they might But, shedding few soft teares from tender eyne, Finde harbour fit to comfort her great neede; His dear affect with silence did restraine,

For now her wounds corruption gan to breed: And shut up all his plaint in privy paine.

And eke this squire, who likewise wounded was There they awhile some gracious speeches spent, Of that same monster late, for lacke of heed As to them seem'd fit time to entertaine:

Now gan to faint, and further could not pas [has. After all which up to their steedes they went, Through feeblenesse, which all hislimbes oppressed And forth together rode, a comely couplement.

So forth they rode together all in troupe [ease So now they be arrived both in sight

To seeke some place, the which mote yeeld some Of this wyld man, whom they full busie found To these sicke twaive that now began to droupe: About the sad Serena things to dight,

And all the way the prince sought to appease With those brave armours lying on the ground, The bitter anguish of their sharpe disease That seem'd the spoile of soine right well renownd. By all the courteous meanes he could invent; Which when that squire beheld, he to them stept Somewhile with merry porpose, fit to please, Thinking to take them from that byiding hound; And otherwhile with good encouragement, But he it seeing lightly to him lept, [kept: To make them to endure the pains did them torAnd sternely with strong hand it from kis handling


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