Sir Calidore his faith thereto did plight
It to performe: so after little stay,
That she herselfe had to the journey dight,
He passed forth with her in faire array,
Fearlesse who ought did thinke or ought did say,
Sith his own thought he knew most cleare from wite:
So, as they past together on their way,
He can devize this counter-cast of slight,
To give faire colour to that Ladies cause in sight.
Streight to the carkasse of that Knight he went,
(The cause of all this evill, who was slaine
The day before by just avengëment
Of noble Tristram,) where it did remaine;
There he the necke thereof did cut in twaine,
And tooke with him the head, the signe of shame.
So forth he passed thorough that daies paine,
Till to that Ladies fathers house he came ;
Most pensive man, through feare what of his childe became.
There he arriving boldly did present
The fearefull Lady to her father deare,
Most perfect pure, and guiltlesse innocent
Of blame, as he did on his Knighthood sweare,
Since first he saw her, and did free from feare
Of a discourteous Knight, who her had reft
And by outragious force away did beare:
Witnesse thereof he shew'd his head there left,
And wretched life forlorne for vengement of his theft.
Most joyfull man her Sire was, her to see,
And heare th' adventure of her late mischaunce;
And thousand thankes to Calidore for fee
Of his large paines in her deliveraunce
Did yeeld; ne lesse the Lady did advaunce.
Thus having her restored trustily,
As he had vow'd, some small continuance
He there did make, and then most carefully
Unto his first exploite he did himselfe apply.
So, as he was pursuing of his quest,
He chaunst to come whereas a jolly Knight
In covert shade himselfe did safely rest,
To solace with his Lady in delight:
His warlike armes he had from him undight;
For that himselfe he thought from daunger free,
And far from envious eyes that mote him spight:
And eke the Lady was full faire to see,
And courteous withall, becomming her degree.
To whom Sir Calidore approaching nye,
Ere they were well aware of living wight,
Them much abasht, but more himselfe thereby,
That he so rudely did uppon them light,
And troubled had their quiet loves delight:
Yet since it was his fortune, not his fault,
Himselfe thereof he labour'd to acquite,
And pardon crav'd for his so rash default,
That he gainst courtesie so fowly did default.
With which his gentle words and goodly wit
He soone allayd that Knights conceiv'd displeasure,
That he besought him downe by him to sit,
That they mote treat of things abroad at leasure,
And of adventures, which had in his measure
Of so long waies to him befallen late.
So downe he sate, and with delightfull pleasure
His long adventures gan to him relate,
Which he endured had through daungerous debate:
Of which whilest they discoursed both together,
The faire Serena (so his Lady hight)
Allur'd with myldnesse of the gentle wether
And plesaunce of the place, the which was dight
With divers flowres distinct with rare delight,
Wandred about the fields, as liking led
Her wavering lust after her wandring sight,
To make a garland to adorne her hed,
Without suspect of ill or daungers hidden dred.
All sodainely out of the forrest nere
The Blatant Beast forth rushing unaware
Caught her thus loosely wandring here and there,
And in his wide great mouth away her bare
Crying aloud to shew her sad misfare
Unto the Knights, and calling oft for ayde;
Who with the horrour of her haplesse care
Hastily starting up, like men dismayde,
Ran after fast to reskue the distressed Mayde.
The Beast, with their pursuit incited more,
Into the wood was bearing her apace
For to have spoyled her; when Calidore,
Who was more light of foote and swift in chace,
Him overtooke in middest of his race;
And, fiercely charging him with all his might,
Forst to forgoe his pray there in the place,
And to betake himselfe to fearefull flight;
For he durst not abide with Calidore to fight.
Who nathëlesse, when he the Lady saw
There left on ground, though in full evill plight,
Yet knowing that her Knight now neare did draw,
Staide not to succour her in that affright,
But follow'd fast the Monster in his flight:
Through woods and hils he follow'd him so fast,
That he nould let him breath nor gather spright,
But forst him gape and gaspe, with dread aghast,
As if his lungs and lites were nigh asunder brast.
And now by this Sir Calepine, so hight,
Came to the place where he his Lady found
In dolorous dismay and deadly plight,
All in gore bloud there tumbled on the ground, Having both sides through grypt with griesly wound: His weapons soone from him he threw away, And stouping downe to her in drery swound Uprear'd her from the ground whereon she lay, And in his tender armes her forced up to stay.
So well he did his busie paines apply,
That the faint spright he did revoke againe
To her fraile mansion of mortality :
Then up
he tooke her twixt his armës twaine,
And setting on his steede her did sustaine
With carefull hands, soft footing her beside;
Till to some place of rest they mote attaine,
Where she in safe assuraunce mote abide,
Till she recured were of those her woundës wide.
Now whenas Phabus with his fiery waine
Unto his Inne began to draw apace;
Tho, wexing weary of that toylesome paine,
In travelling on foote so long a space,
Not wont on foote with heavy armes to trace ;
Downe in a dale forby a rivers syde
He chaunst to spie a faire and stately Place,
To which he meant his weary steps to guyde,
In hope there for his Love some succour to provyde.
But, comming to the rivers side, he found
That hardly passable on foote it was;
Therefore there still he stood as in a stound,
Ne wist which way he through the foord mote pas : Thus whilest he was in this distressed case,
Devising what to doe, he nigh espyde
An armed Knight approaching to the place
With a faire Lady lincked by his syde,
The which themselves prepard thorough the foord to ride.
Whom Calepine saluting, as became,
Besought of courtesie, in that his neede,
For safe conducting of his sickely Dame
Through that same perillous foord with better heede,
To take him up behinde upon his steed :
To whom that other did this taunt returne;
"Perdy, thou peasant Knight mightst rightly reed
Me then to be full base and evill borne,
If I would beare behinde a burden of such scorne.
But, as thou hast thy steed forlorne with shame, So fare on foote till thou another gayne, And let thy Lady likewise doe the same, Or beare her on thy backe with pleasing payne, And prove thy manhood on the billowes vayne." With which rude speach his Lady much displeased Did him reprove, yet could him not restrayne, And would on her owne Palfrey him have eased For pitty of his Dame whom she saw so diseased.
Sir Calepine her thanckt; yet, inly wroth
Against her Knight, her gentlenesse refused,
And carelesly into the river go'th,
As in despight to be so fowle abused
Of a rude Churle, whom often he accused
Of fowle discourtesie, unfit for Knight;
And, strongly wading through the waves unused, With Speare in th' one hand stayd himselfe upright, With th' other staide his Lady up with steddy might.
And all the while that same discourteous Knight
Stood on the further bancke beholding him;
At whose calamity, for more despight,
He laught, and mockt to see him like to swim.
But whenas Calepine came to the brim,
And saw his carriage past that perill well,
Looking at that same Carle with count'nance grim,
His heart with vengeaunce inwardly did swell,
And forth at last did breake in speaches sharpe and fell:
"Unknightly Knight, the blemish of that name,
And blot of all that armes uppon them take,
Which is the badge of honour and of fame,
Loe! I defie thee; and here challenge make,
That thou for ever doe those armes forsake,
And be for ever held a recreant Knight,
Unlesse thou dare, for thy deare Ladies sake
And for thine owne defence, on foote alight
To justifie thy fault gainst me in equall fight."
|