How many flyes in whottest Summers day

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Do seize upon some beast, whose flesh is bare, That all the place with swarmes do overlay, And with their litle stings right felly fare; So many theeves about him swarming are, All which do him assayle on every side, And sore oppresse, ne any him doth spare; But he doth with his raging brond divide Their thickest troups, and round about him scattreth wide.

Like as a Lion mongst an heard of Dere,

Disperseth them to catch his choysest pray;
So did he fly amongst them here and there,
And all that nere him came did hew and slay,
Till he had strowd with bodies all the way;
That none his daunger daring to abide
Fled from his wrath, and did themselves convay
Into their Caves, their heads from death to hide,
Ne any left that victorie to him envide.

Then, backe returning to his dearest Deare,
He her gan to recomfort, all he might,
With gladfull speaches and with lovely cheare;
And forth her bringing to the joyous light
Whereof she long had lackt the wishfull sight,
Deviz'd all goodly meanes from her to drive
The sad remembrance of her wretched plight:
So her uneath at last he did revive

That long had lyen dead, and made againe alive.

This doen, into those theevish dens he went,
And thence did all the spoyles and threasures take,
Which they from many long had robd and rent:
But Fortune now the Victors meed did make;
Of which the best he did his Love betake;
And also all those flockes, which they before
Had reft from Melibee and from his Make,
He did them all to Coridon restore:

So drove them all away, and his Love with him bore.

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L'

IKE as a ship, that through the Ocean wyde
Directs her course unto one certaine cost,
Is met of many a counter winde and tyde,
With which her winged speed is let and crost,
And she herselfe in stormie surges tost;
Yet, making many a borde and many a bay,
Still winneth way, ne hath her compasse lost;
Right so it fares with me in this long way,
Whose course is often stayd, yet never is astray.

For all that hetherto hath long delayd

This gentle Knight from sewing his first quest,
Though out of course, yet hath not bene mis-sayd,
To shew the courtesie by him profest

Even unto the lowest and the least.

But now I come into my course againe,

To his atchievement of the Blatant Beast;

Who all this while at will did range and raine,

Whilst none was him to stop, nor none him to restraine.

Sir Calidore, when thus he now had raught
Faire Pastorella from those Brigants powre,
Unto the Castle of Belgard her brought,
Whereof was Lord the good Sir Bellamoure;
Who whylome was, in his youthes freshest flowre,
A lustie Knight as ever wielded speare,
And had endured many a dreadfull stoure
In bloudy battell for a Ladie deare,

The fayrest Ladie then of all that living were:

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Her name was Claribell; whose father hight
The Lord of Many Ilands, farre renound
For his great riches and his greater might:
He, through the wealth wherein he did abound,
This Daughter thought in wedlocke to have bound
Unto the Prince of Picteland, bordering nere ;
But she, whose sides before with secret wound
Of love to Bellamoure empierced were,

By all meanes shund to match with any forreign fere :

And Bellamour againe so well her pleased
With dayly service and attendance dew,
That of her love he was entyrely seized,

And closely did her wed, but knowne to few:
Which when her father understood, he grew
In so great rage that them in dongeon deepe
Without compassion cruelly he threw ;
Yet did so streightly them asunder keepe,
That neither could to company of th' other creepe.
Nathlesse Sir Bellamour, whether through grace
Or secret guifts, so with his Keepers wrought,
That to his Love sometimes he came in place;
Whereof her wombe unwist to wight was fraught,
And in dew time a Mayden Child forth brought:
Which she streightway (for dread least if her Syre
Should know thereof to slay he would have sought)
Delivered to her handmayd, that for hyre
She should it cause be fostred under straunge attyre.

The trustie Damzell bearing it abrode

Into the emptie fields, where living wight
Mote not bewray the secret of her lode,
She forth gan lay unto the open light

The litle Babe, to take thereof a sight:
Whom whylest she did with watrie eyne behold,
Upon the litle brest, like christall bright,

She mote perceive a litle purple mold,

That like a Rose her silken leaves did faire unfold.

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Well she it markt, and pittied the more,

Yet could not remedie her wretched case;

But, closing it againe like as before,
Bedeaw'd with teares there left it in the place;
Yet left not quite, but drew a litle space
Behind the bushes where she her did hyde,
To weet what mortall hand, or heavens grace,
Would for the wretched Infants helpe provyde;
For which it loudly cald, and pittifully cryde.

At length a Shepheard, which thereby did keepe
His fleecie flocke upon the Playnes around,
Led with the Infants cry that loud did weepe,
Came to the place; where when he wrapped found
Th' abandond spoyle, he softly it unbound;
And, seeing there that did him pittie sore,
He tooke it up and in his mantle wound;
So home unto his honest wife it bore,
Who as her owne it nurst and named evermore.

Thus long continu'd Claribell a thrall,

And Bellamour in bands; till that her syre
Departed life, and left unto them all :
Then all the stormes of Fortunes former yre
Were turnd, and they to freedome did retyre.
Thenceforth they joy'd in happinesse together,
And lived long in peace and love entyre,
Without disquiet or dislike of ether,

Till time that Calidore brought Pastorella thether.

Both whom they goodly well did entertaine;
For Bellamour knew Calidore right well,
And loved for his prowesse, sith they twaine
Long since had fought in field: als Claribell
Ne lesse did tender the faire Pastorell,

Seeing her weake and wan through durance long.
There they awhile together thus did dwell

In much delight and many joyes among,

Untill the Damzell gan to wex more sound and strong.

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Tho gan Sir Calidore him to advize

Of his first quest, which he had long forlore, Asham'd to thinke how he that enterprize, The which the Faery Queene had long afore Bequeath'd to him, forslacked had so sore; That much he feared least reproachfull blame With foule dishonour him mote blot therefore; Besides the losse of so much praise and fame, As through the world thereby should glorifie his name.

Therefore, resolving to returne in hast

Unto so great atchievement, he bethought
To leave his Love, now perill being past,
With Claribell; whylest he that Monster sought
Throughout the world, and to destruction brought.
So taking leave of his faire Pastorell,

Whom to recomfort all the meanes he wrought,
With thanks to Bellamour and Claribell,

He went forth on his quest, and did that him befell.

But first, ere I doe his adventures tell

In this exploite, me needeth to declare
What did betide to the faire Pastorell,
During his absence left in heavy care,
Through daily mourning and nightly misfare:
Yet did that auncient Matrone all she might,
To cherish her with all things choice and rare;
And her owne handmayd, that Melissa hight,
Appointed to attend her dewly day and night.

Who in a morning, when this Maiden faire
Was dighting her, having her snowy brest
As yet not laced, nor her golden haire
Into their comely tresses dewly drest,
Chaunst to espy upon her yvory chest
The rosie marke, which she remembred well
That litle Infant had, which forth she kest,
The daughter of her Lady Claribell,

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The which she bore the whiles in prison she did dwell.