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It was an hill plaste in an open plaine,

Looke! how the crowne, which Ariadne wore That round about was bordered with a wood Upon her yvory forehead that same day Of matchlesse hight, that seem'd th' earth to dis- That Theseus her unto his bridale bore, in which all trees of honour stately stood, [daine ; When the bold Centaures made that bloudy fray And did all winter as in sommer bud,

With the fierce Lapithes which did them disinay; Spredding pavilions for the birds to bowre,

Being now placed in the firmament, Which in their lower braunches sung aloud; Through the bright Heaven doth her beams display, And in their tops the soring hauke did towre, And is unto the starres an ornament, Sitting like king of fowles in majesty and powre : Which round about ber move in order excellent. And at the foote thereof a gentle flud

Such was the beauty of this goodly band, His silver waves did softly tumble downe,

Whose sundry parts were here too long to tell : Unmard with ragged mosse or ülthy mud;

But she, that in the midst of them did stand, Ne mote wylde beastes, ne mote the ruder clowne, Seem'd all the rest in beauty to excell, Thereto approch; ne filth mote therein drowne: Crownd with a rosie girloud that right well But nymphes and Faeries by the bancks did sit Did her beseeme: and ever, as the crew In the woods shade which did the waters crowne, About her daunst, sweet flowres that far did smell Keeping all noysome things away from it,

And fragrant odours they uppon her threw ; [dew. And to the waters fall tuning their accents sit. But, most of all, those three did her with gifts enAnd on the top thereof a spacious plaine

Those were the Graces, daughters of delight, Did spred itselfe, to serve to all delight,

Handmaides of Venus, which are wont to haunt Either to daunce, when they to daunce would faine, lppon this bill, and daunce there day and night: Or else to course-about their bases light;

Those three to men all gifts of grace do grauut; Ne ought there wanted, which for pleasure might And all, that Venus in herself doth vaunt, Desired be, or thence to banish bale:

Is borrowed of them: but that faire one, So pleasauntly the hill with equall hight

That in the midst was placed pararauut, Did seeme to overlooke the lowly vale;

Was she to whom that shepheard pypt alone; Therefore it rightly clecped was Mount Acidale. That made him pipe so merrily, as never none. They say that Venus, when she did dispose She was, to weete, that jolly shepheards lasse, Herseite to pleasaunce, used to resort

Which piped there nnto that merry rout; Unto this place, and therein to repose

That iolly shepheard, which there piped, was And rest herselfe as in a gladsome port,

Poor Colin Clout, (who knows not Colin Clout?) Or with the Graces there to play and sport; He pypt apace, whilest they him daunst about. That even her owne Cytheron, though in it Pype, iolly shepheard, pype thou now apace She used most to keepe her royall court

Unto thy love that made thee low to lout; And in her soveraine majesty to sit,

Thy love is present there with thee in place; She in regard hereof refusde and thought unfit. Thy love is there advaunst to be another Grace. Unto this place whenas the Elfin knight

Much wondred Calidore at this straunge sight, Approcht, him seemed that the merry sound Whose like before his eye had never seene; Of a shrill pipe he playing heard on hight, And standing long astonished in spright, And many feete fast thumping th' bollow ground, And rapt with pleasaunce, wist not what to weene; That through the woods their eccho did rebound. Whether it were the traine of beauties queene, He nigher drew, to weete what mote it be: Or nyriphes, or Faeries, or enchaunted show, There he a troupe of ladies dauncing found With which his eyes mote have deluded beene. Full merrily, and making giadfull glee,

Therefore, resolving what it was to know, And in the midst a shepheard piping he did see. Out of the wood be rose, and toward them did go. Ile durst not enter into th' open greene,

But, soone as he appeared to their vew, For dread of them unwares to be descryde, They vanisht all away out of his sight, For breaking of their daunce, if he were seene; And cleane were gone, which way he never knew; But in the covert of the wood did byde,

All save the shepheard, who, for fell despight Beholding all, yet of them unespyde:

Of that displeasure, broke his bag-pipe quight, There he did see, that pleased much his sight, And made great mone for that unhappy turne: That even he himselfe his eyes envyde,

But Calidore, though no lesse sory wight An hundred naked maidens lilly white

For that mishap, yet seeing him to mourne, All raunged in a ring and dauncing in delight. Drew neare, that he the truth of all by him mote

learne: All they without were raunged in a ring, And daunced round; but in the midst of them And, first him greeting, thus unto him spake; Three other ladies did both daunce and sing, “ Haile, iolly shepheard, which thy ioyous dayes The whilest the rest them round about did hemme, Here leadest in this goodly merry-make, And like a girlond did in compasse stemme: Frequented of these gentle nymphes alwayes, And in the middest of those same three was placed which to thee flocke to heare thy lovely layes! Another damzell, as a precious gemme

Tell me what mote these dainty damzelsbe, (playes; Amidst a ring most richly well enchaced,

Which here with thee doe make their pleasant That with her goodly presence all the rest much Right happy thou, that mayest them freely see! graced.

But why, when I them saw, fled they away from me."

“ Not I so happy,” answerd then that swaine, Another Grace she well deserves to be,
“ As thou unhappy, which them thence didst chace, In whom so many graces gathered are,
Whom by no meanes thou canst recall againe; Excelling much the meane of her degree;
For, being gone, none can them bring in place, Divine resemblaunce, beauty soveraine rare,
But whom they of themselves list so to grace." Firme chastity, that spight ne blemish dare !
" Rigbt sory I," saide then sir Calidore,

All which she with such courtesie doth grace, “ That my ill fortune did them hence displace: That all her peres cannot with her compare, But since things passed none may now restore, But quite are dimmed when she is in place : Tell me what were they all, whose lacke thee She made me often pipe, and now to pipe apace. grieves so sore."

“ Sunne of the world, great glory of the sky, Tho gan that shepheard thus for to dilate; That all the Earth doest lighten with thy rayes, Then wote, thou shepheard, whatsoe'er thou bee, Great Gloriana, greatest maiesty ! That all those ladies, which thou sawest late, Pardon thy shepheard, mongst so many layes Are Venus damzels, all within her fee,

As he bath sung of thee in all his dayes, But differing in honour and degree:

To make one minime of thy poore handmayd, They all are Graces which on her depend; And underneath thy feete to place her prayse; Besides a thousand more which ready bee That, when thy glory shall be farre displayd Her to adorne, whensy she forth doth wend ; [tend: To future age, of her this mention may be made !" But those three in the midst, doe chiefe on her at

When thus that shepheard ended had his speach, “ They are the daughters of sky-ruling love, Sayd Calidore ; " Now sure it yrketh mee, By him begot of faire Eurynome,

That to thy blisse I made this luckelesse breach, The Oceans daughter, in this pleasant grove, As now the author of thy bale to be, As he, this way comming from feastful glee Thus to bereave thy loves deare sight from thee: Of Thetis wedding with Aecidee,

But, gentle shepheard, pardon thou my shame, In sommers shade bimselfe here rested weary. Who rashly sought that which I mote not see." The first of them hight mylde Euphrosyne, Thus did the courteous knight excuse his blame, Next faire Aglaia, last Thalia merry ; [cherry! And to recomfort him all comely meanes did frame. Sweete goddesses all three, which me in mirth do

In such discourses they together spent “ 'These three on men all gracious gifts bestow, Long time, as fit occasion forth them led; Which decke the body or adorne the mynde, With which the knight himselfe did much content, To make them lovely or well-favoured show; And with delight his greedy fancy fed As comely carriage, entertainment kynde,

Both of his words, which he with reason red, Sweete semblaunt, friendly offices that bynde, And also of the place, whose pleasures rare And all the complements of curtesie :

With such regard his sences ravished, They teach us, how to each degree and kynde That thence he had po will away to fare, (sbare. We should ourselves demeane, to low, to hie, But wisht that with that shepheard he mote dwelling To friends, to foes; which skill men call civility.

But that envenimd sting, the which of yore “ Therefore they alwaies smoothly seeme to smile, His poysnous point deepe fixed in his hart That we likewise should mylde and gentle be; Had left, now gan afresh to rancle sore, And also naked are, that without guile

And to renue the rigour of his smart; Or false dissemblaunce all them plaine may see, Which to recure, no skill of leaches art Simple and true from covert malice free;

Mote him availe, but to returne againe And eeke themselves so in their daunce they bore, To his wounds worker, that with lovely dart That two of them still froward seem'd to bec, Dinting his brest had bred his restlesse paine; But one still towards shew'd herselfe afore; (store. Like as the wounded whale to shore flies from the That good should from us goe, then come in greater

maine. “ Such were those goddesses which ye did see: So, taking leave of that same gentle swaine, But that fourth mayd, which there amidst them He backe returned to his rusticke wonne, Who can aread what creature mote she bee, (traced, where his faire Pastorella did remaine : Whether a creature, or a goddesse graced

To whome in sort, as he at first begonne, With heavenly gifts from Heven first enraced ! He daily did apply himselfe to donne But whatso sure she was, she worthy was

All dewfull service, voide of thoughts impure; To be the fourth with those three other placed : Ne any paines ne perill did he shonne, Yet was she certes but a countrey lasse;

By which he might her to bis love allure, Yet she all other countrey lasses farre did passe : And liking in her yet untamed beart procure. “ So farre, as doth the daughter of the day And evermore the shepheard Coridon, All other lesser lights in light excell;

Whatever thing he did her to aggrate, So farre doth she in beautyfull array

Did strive to match with strong contention, Above all other lasses beare the bell;

And all his paines did closely emulate; Ne lesse in vertue that beseemes her well

Whether it were to caroll, as they sate Doth she exceede the rest of all her race;

Keeping their sheepe, or games to exercize, For which the Graces, that here wont to dwell, Or to present her with their labours late; Have for more honor brought her to this place, Through which if any grace chaunst to arize (frize. And graced her so much to be another Grace. To him, the shepheard straight with icalousie did One day, as they all three together went

With them also was taken Coridon,
To the greene wood to gather strawberies, And carried captive by those theeves away;
There chaunst to them a dangerous accident: Who in the covert of the night, that none
A tigre forth out of the wood did rise,

Mote them descry, nor reskue from their pray,
That with fell clawes full of fierce gourmandize, Unto their dwelling did them close convay:
And greedy mouth wide-gaping like hell-gate, Their dwelling in a little island was,
Did runne at Pastorell her to surprize;

Covered with shrubby woods, in which no way Whom she beholding, now all desolate,

Appeared for people in nor out to pas,
Gan cry to them aloud to helpe her all too late. Nor any footing fynde for overgrowen gras:
Which Coridon first hearing, ran in hast

For underneath the ground their way was made To reskue her ; but, when he saw the feend, Through hollow caves, that no man mote discover Through cowherd feare he fled away as fast, For the thicke shrubs, which did them alwaies shade Ne durst abide the daunger of the end ;

From view of living wight and covered over ; His life he steemed dearer then his frend:

But darkenesse dred and daily night did hover But Calidore soone comming to her ayde, Through all the inner parts, wherein they dwelt; When he the beast saw ready now to rend

Ne lightned was with window, nor with lover, His loves deare spoile, in which his heart was prayde, But with continuall candle light, which delt He ran at him enraged, instead of being frayde. A doubtfull sense of things, not so well seene as felt. He had no weapon but his shepheards hooke

Hither those Brigants brought their present pray, To serve the vengeaunce of his wrathfull will;

And kept them with continuall watch and ward; With which so sternely he the monster strooke,

Meaning, so soone as they convenient may, That to the ground astonished he fell;

For slaves to sell them for no small reward Whence ere he could recou't, he did him quell,

To merchants, which them kept in bondage hard, And hewing off his head, it presented

Or sold againe. Now when faire Pastorell Before the feete of the faire Pastorell;

Into this place was brought, and kept with gard Who, scarcely yet from former feare exempted, Of griesly theeves, she thought herself in Hell, A thousand times him thankt that had her death where with such damned fiends she should in dark, prevented.

nesse dwell. From that day forth she gan him to affect,

But for to tell the dolefull dreriment
And daily more her favour to augment;
But Coridon for cow herdize reiect,

And pittifull complaints which there she made,

(Where day and night she nonght did but lament Fit to keepe sheepe, unfit for loves content: The gentle heart scornes base disparagement.

Her wretched life shut up in deadly shade, Yet Calidore did not despise him quight,

And waste her goodly beauty, which did fade

Like to a flowre that feeles no heate of Sunne But usde híın friendly for further intent,

Which may her feeble leaves with comfort glade ;) That by his fellowship he colour might

And what befell her in that tbeevish wonne,
Both his estate and love from skill of any wight.

Will in another canto better be begonne.
So well he wood her, and so well he wrought her,
With humble service, and with daily sute,
That at the last unto his will he brought her;
Which he so wisely well did prosecute,

CANTO XI.
That of his love he reapt the timely frute,

The theeves fall out for Pastorell, And ioyed long in close felicity :

Whilest Melibee is slain: Till Fortune, fraught with malice, blinde and brute,

Her Calidore from them redeemes,
That envies lovers long prosperity,

And bringeth backe againe.
Blew up a bitter storme of foule adversity.
It fortuned one day, wben Calidore

The joys of love, if they should ever last
Was hunting in the woods, as was his trade, Without affliction or disquietnesse
A lawlesse people, Brigants hight of yore,

That worldly chaunces doe amongst them cast, That never usde to live by plongh por spade,

Would be on Earth too great a blessednesse, But fed on spoile and booty, which they made

Liker to Heaven then mortall wretchednesse : Upon their neighbours which did nigh them border, Therefore the winged god, to let men weet The dwelling of these shepbeards did invade;

That here on Earth is no sure happinesse, And spoyld their houses, and themselves did murder, A thousand sowres hath tempred with one sweet, And drove away their flocks ; with other much dis To make it seeme more deare and dainty, as is meet. order.

Like as is now befalne to this faire mayd, Amongst the rest, the which they then did pray, Faire Pastorell, of whom is now my song: They spoyld old Melibee of all he had,

Who being now in dreadfull darknesse layd And all his people captive led away;

Amongst those theeves, which her in bondage strong Mongst which this lucklesse mayd away was lad, Detaynd ; yet Fortune, not with all this wrong Faire Pastorella, sorrowfull and sad,

Contented, greater mischiefe on her threw, Most sorrowfull, most sad, that ever sigh't, And sorrowes heapt on her in greater throng ; Now made the spoile of theeves and Brigants bad, That whoso heares her heavinesse, would rew Which was the conquest of the gentlest knight And pitty her sad plight, so chang'd from pleasanat That ever lied, and th' onely glory of his might:

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Whylest thus she iu these hellish dens remayned, To whom they shewed, how those merchants were
Wrapped in wretched cares and hearts unrest, Arriv'd in place their bondslaves for to buy ;
It so befell, as Fortune had ordayned,

And therefore prayd that those same captives there That he which was their capitaine profest,

Mote to them for their most commodity And had the chiefe commaund of all the rest, Be sold, and mongst them shared equally. One day, as he did all his prisoners vew,

This their request the captaine much appalled; With lustfull eyes beheld that lovely guest, Yet could he not their iust demaund deny, Faire Pastorella, whose sad mournefull hew And willed streight the slaves should forth be called, Like the faire morning clad in misty fog did shew. And sold for most advantage not to be forstalled. At sight whereof his barbarous heart was fired,

Then forth the good old Melibee was brought, And inly burnt with flames most raging whot,

And Coridon with many other moe, That ber alone he for his part desired

Whom they before in diverse spoyles had caught; Of all the other pray which they had got,

All which he to the marchants sale did showe: Aud härin mynde did to himselfe allot.

Till some, which did the sundry prisoners knowe, Froin that day forth he kyndnesse to her showed,

Gan to inquire for that faire shepherdesse,

Which with the rest they tooke not long agoe; And sught her love by all the meanes be mote; With looks, with words, with gifts he oft her wowed, The more t'augment her price through praise of

And gan her forme and feature to expresse, And mixed threats among, and much unto her vowed.

comlinesse.

To whom the captaine in full angry wize But all that ever he could doe or say

Made answere, that “the mayd of whom they spake Her constant mynd could not a wbit remove, Was his owne purchase and bis onely prize ; Nor draw unto the lure of his leud lay,

With which none had to doe, ne ought partake, To graunt him favour or afford him love :

But he himselfe which did that conquest make; Yet ceast he not to sew, and all waies prove, Litle for him to have one silly lasse ; By which he mote accomplish his request,

Besides through sicknesse now so wan and weake, Saying and doing all that mote behove;

That nothing meet in merchandise to passe:” Ne day nor night he suffred her to rest,

So shew'd them her, to prove how pale and weake But her all night did watch, and all the day molest.

she was. At last, when him she so importune saw,

The sight of whom, though now decayd and mard, Fearing least he at length the raines would lend And eke but hardly seene by candle-light, Unto his lust, and make his will his law,

Yet, like a diamond of rich regard, Sith in his powre she was to foe or friend;

In doubtfull shadow of the darkesome night She thought it best, for shadow, to pretend With starrie beames about her shining bright, Some shew of favour, by him gracing small,

The marchants fixed eyes did so amaze, (light, That she thereby mote either freely wend, That what through wonder, and what through deOr at more ease continne there his thrall:

A while on her they greedily Jid gaze, A little well is lent that gaineth more withall. And did her greatly like, and did her greatly praize.

At last when all the rest them offred were, So from thenceforth, when love he to her made,

And prises to them placed at their pleasure, With better tearmes she did him entertaine; Which gave him hope, and did him halfe perswade, Ne ought would buy, however prisd with measure,

They all refused in regard of her; That he in time her ioyance should obtaine : But when she saw, through that small favours gaine, They did esteeme, and offred store of gold : [sure,

Withouten her, whose worth above all threasure, That further then she willing was he prest; She found no meanes to barre him, but to faine

But then the captaine, fraught with more displeaA sodaine sicknesse which her sore opprest,

Bad them be still; “his love should not be sold; And made unfit to serve his lawlesse mindes behest. The rest take if they would; he her to him would

hold.” By meanes whereof she would not him permit Therewith some other of the chiefest theeves Once to approach to her in privity,

Boldly him bad such iniurie forbeare; But onely mongst the rest by her to sit,

For that same mayd, however it him greeves, Mourning the rigour of her malady,

Should with the rest be sold before him theare, And seeking all things meete for remedy:

To make the prises of the rest more deare. But she resolv'd no remedy to fynde,

| That with great rage he stoutly doth denay; Nor better cheare to shew in misery,

And, fiercely drawing forth his blade, doth sweare Till Fortune would her captive bonds unbynde:

That whoso hardie hand on her doth lay, Her sickenesse was not of the body but the myndo. It dearely shall aby, and death for handsell pay. During which space that she thus sicke did lie, Thus, as they words amongst them multiply, It chaunst a sort of merchants, which were wount They fall to strokes, the frute of too much talke, To skim those coastes for bondmen there to buy, And the mad steele about doth fiercely fly, And by such trafficke after gaines to hunt,

Not sparing wight, ne leaving any balke, Arrived in this isle, though bare and blunt, But making way for Death at large to walke; T'' inquire for slaves; where being readie met Who, in the borror of the griesly night, [stalke, By some of these same theeves at th'instant brunt, In thousand dreadful shapes doth mongst them Were brought unto their captaine, who was set And makes huge havocke; whiles the candle-light By his faire patients side with sorrowfull regret. Out-quenched leaves no skill nor difference of wight.

Like as a sort of hungry dogs, ymet

But when they saw her now reliv'd againe, About some carcase by the common way,

They left her so, in charge of one, the best Doe fall together, stryving each to get

Of many worst, who with unkind disdaine The greatest portion of the greedie pray;

And cruell rigour her did much molest; All on confused heapes themselves assay,

Scarse yeelding her due food or timely rest, And spatch, and byte, and rend, and tug, and teare; And scarsely saffring her infestred wound, That who them sees would wonder at their fray, That sore her payn'd, by any to be drest. And who sees not would be affrayd to heare: So leave we her in wretched thraldome bound, Such was the conflict of those cruell brigants there. And turne we back to Calidore, where we him found. But, first of all, their captives they doe kill, Who when he backe returned from the wood, Least they should ioyne against the weaker side, And saw his shepheards cottage spoyled qaight, Or rise against the remnant at their will:

And his love reft away; he wexed wood Old Melibee is slaine; and him beside

And halfe enraged at that ruefull sight; His raged wife; with many others wide:

That even his hart, for very fell despight, But Coridon, escaping craftily,

And his owne flesh he readie was to teare: Creepes forth of dores, whilst darknes him doth hide, He chauft, he griev'd, he fretted, and he sigh't, And Ayes away as fast as he can hye,

And fared like a furious wyld beare, [where. Ne stayeth leave to take before his friends doe dye. Whose whelpes are stolne away, she being otherBut Pastorella, wofull wretched elfe,

Ne wight he found to whom he might complaine, Was, by the captaine all this while defended, Ne wight he found of whom he might inquire; Who, minding more her safety then himselfe, That more increast the anguish of his paine: His target alwayes over her pretended ;

He sought the woods, but no man could see there ; By meanes whereof, that mote not be amended, He sought the plaines, but could no tydings heare: He at the length was slaine and layd on ground, The woods did nought but ecchoes vaine rebound; Yet holding fast twixt both his armes extended The playnes all waste and emptie did appeare; Fayre Pastorell, who with the selfe same wound Where wont the shepheards oft their pypes resound, Launcht through the arme fell down with him in And feed an hundred flocks, there now not one he drerie swound.

found. There lay she covered with confused preasse At last, as there he romed up and downe, Of carcases, which dying on her fell:

He chaunst one coming towards him to spy, Tho, whenas he was dead, the fray can ceasse; That seem'd to be some sorie simple elowne, And each to other calling did compell

With ragged weedes, and lockes upstaring hye, To stay their cruell hands from slaughter fell, As if he did from some late daunger fly, Sith they that were the cause of all were gone: And yet his feare did follow him behynd : Thereto they all attonce agreëd well;

Who as he unto him approached nye, And, lighting candles new, gan search anone, He mote perceive, by signes which he did fynd, How many of their friends were slaine, how many That Coridon it was, the silly shepheards hynd. fone.

Tho, to him running fast, he did not stay Their captaine there they cruelly found kild, To greet him first, but askt, Where were the rest, And in his armes the dreary dying mayd,

Where Pastorell ?-Who full of fresh dismay, Like a sweet angell twixt two clouds uphild; And gushing forth in teares, was so opprest, Her lovely light was dimmed and decayd

That he no word could speake, but smit his brest, With cloud of death upon her eyes displayd; And up to Heaven his eyes fast-streming threw : Yet did the cloud make even that dimmed light Whereat the knigbt amaz'd, yet did not rest, Seeme much more lovely in that darknesse layd, But askt againe, What meant that rufull hew; And twixt the twinckling of her eye-lids bright Where was his Pastorell ? where all the other crew? To sparke out litle beames, like starres in foggie night.

“ Ah! well away,” sayd he, then sighing sore,

“ That ever I did live this day to see,
But, when they mov'd the carcases aside, This dismall day, and was not dead before,
They found that life did yet in her remaine; Before I saw faire Pastorella dye !"
Then all their helpes they busily applyde

“ Die! out alas !" then Calidore did cry,
To call the soule backe to her home againe ; “ How could the Death dare ever her to quell!
And wrought so well, with labour and long paine, But read thou, shepheard, read what destiny
That they to life recovered her at last :

Or other dyrefull bap from Heaven or Hell Who, sighing sore, as if her hart in twaine Hath wrought this wicked deed : doe feare away, Had riven bene and all her hart-strings brast,

and tell.”. With drearie drouping eyne lookt uplike one aghast. Tho, when the shepheard breathed had awhyle, There she bebeld, that sore her griev'd to see, He thus began; « Where shall I then commence Her father and her friends about ber lying, This wofull tale? or how those brigants vyle Herselfe sole left a second spoyle to bee

With cruell rage and dreadfull violence Of those, that having saved her from dying Spoyld all our cots, and caried us from hence ; Renew'd her death by timely death denying. Or how faire Pastorell should have bene sold What now is left her but to wayle and weepe, To marchants, but was sav'd with strong defence; Wringing her hands, and ruefully loud crying ! Or how those theeves, whilestone sought her to bold, Ne cared she her wound in teares to steepe, Pell all at ods, and fought through fury fierce and Albe with all their might those brigants berdid keepe.

bold. VOL. III.

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