Where that discourteous Dame with scornful pride
And foul entreaty him indignified,1
That iron heart it hardly could sustain:
Yet he, that could his wrath full wisely guide,
Did well endure her womanish disdain,
And did himself from frail impatience refrain.
The morrow next, before the lamp of light
Above the earth uprear'd his flaming head,
The dwarf, which bore that message to her knight,
Brought answer back, that ere he tasted bread
He would her succour, and alive or dead
Her foe deliver up into her hand:
Therefore he will'd her do away all dread;
And, that of him she might assured stand,
He sent to her his basnet2 as a faithful band.
Thereof full blithe the Lady straight became,
And gan
ť augment her bitterness much more:
Yet no whit more appalled for the same,
Ne ought dismayed was Sir Calidore;
But rather did more cheerful seem therefore:
And, having soon his arms about him dight,3
Did issue forth to meet his foe afore;
Where long he stayed not, whenas a knight
He spied come pricking on with all his power and
might.
Well ween'd he straight that he should be the same
Which took in hand her quarrel to maintain;
Ne staid to ask if it were he by name,
But couch'd his spear, and ran at him amain.1
They been ymet in middest of the plain
With so fell fury and dispiteous force,
That neither could the other's stroke sustain, But rudely roll'd to ground both man and horse, Neither of other taking pity nor remorse.
But Calidore up rose again full light,
Whiles yet his foe lay fast in senseless sound;1
Yet would he not him hurt although he might:
For shame he ween'd a sleeping wight to wound.
But when Briana saw that dreary stound,2
There where she stood upon the castle wall,
She deem'd him sure to have been dead on ground;
And made such piteous mourning therewithal,
That from the battlements she ready seem'd to fall.
Nathless at length himself he did uprear
In listless wise; as if against his will,
Ere he had slept his fill, he wakened were,
And gan to stretch his limbs; which feeling ill
Of his late fall, awhile he rested still:
But, when he saw his foe before in view,
He shook off luskishness; and, courage chill
Kindling afresh, gan battle to renew,
if better foot than horseback would ensue.
There then began a fearful cruel fray
Betwixt them two for mastery of might:
For both were wondrous practic1 in that play,
And passing well expert in single fight,
And both inflam'd with furious despite;
Which as it still increas'd, so still increas'd
Their cruel strokes and terrible affright;
Ne once for ruth5 their rigour they releas'd,
Ne once to breathe awhile their anger's tempest ceas'd.
Thus long they trac'd and travers'd to and fro,
And tried all ways how each might entrance make
Into the life of his malignant foe;
They hew'd their helms, and plates asunder brake,
As they had potsherds been; for nought might
Their greedy vengeances but gory blood; [slake
That at the last like to a purple lake
Of bloody gore congeal'd about them stood,
Which from their riven sides forth gushed like a flood.
At length it chanc'd that both their hands on high
At once did heave with all their power and might,
Thinking the utmost of their force to try,
And prove the final fortune of the fight;
But Calidore, that was more quick of sight
And nimbler-handed than his enemy,
Prevented him before his stroke could light,
And on the helmet smote him formerly,1
That made him stoop to ground with meek humility:
And, ere he could recover foot again,
He, following that fair advantage fast,
His stroke redoubled with such might and main,
That him upon the ground he grovelling cast;
And leaping to him light would have unlast2
His helm, to make unto his vengeance way:
Who, seeing in what danger he was plast,3
Cried out; Ah mercy, Sir! do me not slay,
But save my life, which lot before your foot doth lay.' Fate.
With that his mortal hand awhile he stay'd:
And, having somewhat calm'd his wrathful heat
With goodly patience, thus he to him said;
'And is the boast of that proud Lady's threat,
That menaced me from the field to beat,
Now brought to this? By this now may ye learn
Strangers no more so rudely to entreat;
But put away proud look and usage stern, [earn.
The which shall nought to you but foul dishonour
'For nothing is more blameful to a knight,
That court'sy doth as well as arms profess,
However strong and fortunate in fight,
Than the reproach of pride and cruelness:
In vain he seeketh others to suppress,
Who hath not learn'd himself first to subdue :
All flesh is frail and full of fickleness,
Subject to fortune's chance, still changing new ;
What haps to-day to me, to-morrow may to you.
'Who will not mercy unto others shew,
How can he mercy ever hope to have?
Το pay each with his own is right and due :
Yet since ye mercy now do need to crave,
I will it grant, your hopeless life to save,
With these conditions which I will propound:
First, that
ye better shall yourself behave
Unto all errant knights, whereso on ground;
Next, that
ye ladies aid in every stead and stound.'1
The wretched man, that all this while did dwell
In dread of death, his hests2 did gladly hear,
And promis'd to perform his precept well,
And whatsoever else he would requere.
So, suff'ring him to rise, he made him swear
By his own sword, and by the cross thereon,
To take Briana for his loving fere1 Withouten dower or composition : But to release his former foul condition.
All which accepting, and with faithful oath
Binding himself most firmly to obey,
He up arose, however lief or loath,2
And swore to him true fealty for aye.
Then forth he call'd from sorrowful dismay
The sad Briana which all this beheld;
Who coming forth yet full of late affray
Sir Calidore upcheer'd, and to her tell'd
All this accord3 to which he Crudor had compell'd.
Whereof she now more glad than sorry earst,*
All overcome with infinite affect5
For his exceeding courtesy, that pierc'd
Her stubborn heart with inward deep effect,
Before his feet herself she did project;6
And him adoring as her life's dear lord,
With all due thanks and dutiful respect,
Herself acknowledg'd bound for that accord,
By which he had to her both life and love restor❜d.
So all returning to the castle glad,
Most joyfully she them did entertain;
Where goodly glee and feast to them she made,
To shew her thankful mind and meaning fain,7
By all the means she might it best explain:
And, after all, unto Sir Calidore
She freely gave that castle for his pain,
And herself bound to him for evermore;
So wondrously now chang'd from that she was afore.
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