The Dastard, that did heare himselfe defyde,

Seem'd not to weigh his threatfull words at all,
But laught them out, as if his greater pryde
Did scorne the challenge of so base a thrall;
Or had no courage, or else had no gall.
So much the more was Calepine offended,
That him to no revenge he forth could call,
But both his challenge and himselfe contemned,
Ne cared as a coward so to be condemned.

But he, nought weighing what he sayd or did,
Turned his steede about another way,
And with his Lady to the Castle rid,
Where was his won; ne did the other stay,
But after went directly as he may,

For his sicke charge some harbour there to seeke;
Where he arriving with the fall of day

Drew to the gate, and there with prayers meeke
And myld entreaty lodging did for her beseeke.

But the rude Porter that no manners had
Did shut the gate against him in his face,
And entraunce boldly unto him forbad :
Nath'lesse the Knight, now in so needy case,
Gan him entreat even with submission base,
And humbly praid to let them in that night:
Who to him aunswer'd, that there was no place
Of lodging fit for any errant Knight,

Unlesse that with his Lord he formerly did fight.

"Full loth am I," quoth he, " as now at earst
When day is spent, and rest us needeth most,
And that this Lady, both whose sides are pearst
With wounds, is ready to forgo the ghost;
Ne would I gladly combate with mine host,
That should to me such curtesie afford,
Unlesse that I were thereunto enforst:
But yet aread to me, how hight thy Lord,

That doth thus strongly ward the Castle of the Ford."

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“His name,” quoth he, “ if that thou list to learne,
Is hight Sir Turpine, one of mickle might
And manhood rare, but terrible and stearne
In all assaies to every Errant Knight,

Because of one that wrought him fowle despight."
"Ill seemes," sayd he, " if he so valiaunt be,
That he should be so sterne to stranger wight:
For seldome yet did living creature see
That curtesie and manhood ever disagree.

"But go thy waies to him, and fro me say
That here is at his gate an Errant Knight,
That house-rome craves; yet would be loth t' assay
The proofe of battell now in doubtfull night,
Or curtesie with rudenesse to requite :

Yet, if he needes will fight, crave leave till morne,
And tell withall the lamentable plight

In which this Lady languisheth forlorne,
That pitty craves, as he of woman was yborne."

The Groome went streightway in, and to his Lord
Declar'd the message which that Knight did move;
Who, sitting with his Lady then at bord,
Not onely did not his demaund approve,
But both himselfe revil'd and eke his Love;
Albe his Lady, that Blandina hight,
Him of ungentle usage did reprove,

And earnestly entreated that they might

Finde favour to be lodged there for that same night.

Yet would he not perswaded be for ought,

Ne from his currish will awhit reclame.

Which answer when the Groome returning brought
To Calepine, his heart did inly flame

With wrathfull fury for so foule a shame,

That he could not thereof avenged bee:
But most for pitty of his dearest Dame,
Whom now in deadly daunger he did see ;

Yet had no meanes to comfort, or procure her glee.

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But all in vaine; for why? no remedy
He saw the present mischiefe to redresse,
But th' utmost end perforce for to aby,
Which that nights fortune would for him addresse.
So downe he tooke his Lady in distresse,
And layd her underneath a bush to sleepe,
Cover'd with cold, and wrapt in wretchednesse;
Whiles he himselfe all night did nought but weepe,
And wary watch about her for her safegard keepe.

The morrow next, so soone as joyous day
Did shew itselfe in sunny beames bedight,
Serena full of dolorous dismay,

Twixt darkenesse dread and hope of living light,
Uprear'd her head to see that chearefull sight.
Then Calepine, however inly wroth,
And greedy to avenge that vile despight,
Yet for the feeble Ladies sake, full loth

To make there lenger stay, forth on his journey go'th.

He go❜th on foote all armed by her side,

Upstaying still herselfe uppon her steede,
Being unhable else alone to ride ;

So sore her sides, so much her wounds did bleede :
Till that at length, in his extreamest neede,
He chaunst far off an armed Knight to spy
Pursuing him apace with greedy speede;
Whom well he wist to be some enemy,
That meant to make advantage of his misery.

Wherefore he stayd, till that he nearer drew,
To weet what issue would thereof betyde:
Tho, whenas he approched nigh in vew,
By certaine signes he plainly him descryde
To be the man that with such scornfull pryde
Had him abusde and shamed yesterday;

Therefore, misdoubting least he should misguyde
His former malice to some new assay,

He cast to keepe himselfe so safely as he may.

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By this the other came in place likewise,
And couching close his speare and all his powre,
As bent to some malicious enterprise,

He bad him stand t' abide the bitter stoure

Of his sore vengeaunce, or to make avoure

Of the lewd words and deedes which he had done:
With that ran at him, as he would devoure
His life attonce; who nought could do but shun
The perill of his pride, or else be over-run.

Yet he him still pursew'd from place to place,
With full intent him cruelly to kill,
And like a wilde goate round about did chace
Flying the fury of his bloudy will:
But his best succour and refúge was still
Behind his Ladies back; who to him cryde,
And called oft with prayers loud and shrill,
As ever he to Lady was affyde,

To

spare her Knight, and rest with reason pacifyde:

But he the more thereby enraged was,

And with more eager felnesse him pursew'd;
So that at length, after long weary chace,

Having by chaunce a close advantage vew'd,
He over-raught him, having long eschew'd
His violence in vaine; and with his spere
Strooke through his shoulder, that the blood ensew'd
In great aboundance, as a Well it were,
That forth out of an hill fresh gushing did appere.

Yet ceast he not for all that cruell wound,
But chaste him still for all his Ladies cry;

Not satisfyde till on the fatall ground

He saw his life powrd forth dispiteously;
The which was certes in great jeopardy,

Had not a wondrous chaunce his reskue wrought,
And saved from his cruell villany:

Such chaunces oft exceed all humaine thought!
That in another Canto shall to end be brought.

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CANTO IV.

Calepine by a Salvage Man
From Turpine reskewed is ;
And, whylest an Infant from a beare
He saves, his Love doth misse.

ןןןן

LIKE as a ship with dreadfull storme long tost,

Having spent all her mastes and her groundhold, Now farre from harbour likely to be lost, At last some fisher-barke doth neare behold, That giveth comfort to her courage cold; Such was the state of this most courteous Knight Being oppressed by that Faytour bold,

That he remayned in most perilous plight, And his sad Ladie left in pitifull affright:

Till that, by fortune passing all foresight,

A Salvage Man, which in those woods did wonne,
Drawne with that Ladies loud and piteous shright,
Toward the same incessantly did ronne

To understand what there was to be donne:
There he this most discourteous Craven found
As fiercely yet, as when he first begonne,
Chasing the gentle Calepine around,

Ne sparing him the more for all his grievous wound.

The Salvage Man, that never till this houre

Did taste of pittie, neither gentlesse knew,
Seeing his sharpe assault and cruell stoure
Was much emmoved at his perills vew,
That even his ruder hart began to rew,
And feele compassion of his evill plight,
Against his foe that did him so pursew;
From whom he meant to free him, if he might,
And him avenge of that so villenous despight.

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