Chapter XV: Book VII: Two Cantos of Mvtabilitie 454 (15)

At last when him she so importune saw, vi
Fearing least he at length the raines would lend
Vnto his lust, and make his will his law,
Sith in his powre she was to foe or frend,
She thought it best, for shadow to pretend
Some shew of fauour, by him gracing small,
That she thereby mote either freely wend,
Or at more ease continue there his thrall:
A little well is lent, that gaineth more withall.

So from thenceforth, when loue he to her made, vii
With better tearmes she did him entertaine,
Which gaue him hope, and did him halfe perswade,
That he in time her ioyaunce should obtaine.
But when she saw, through that small fauours gaine,
That further, then she willing was, he prest,
She found no meanes to barre him, but to faine
A sodaine sickenesse, which her sore opprest,
And made vnfit to serue his lawlesse mindes behest.

By meanes whereof she would not him permit viii
Once to approch to her in priuity,
But onely mongst the rest by her to sit,
Mourning the rigour of her malady,
And seeking all things meete for remedy.
But she resolu’d no remedy to fynde,
Nor better cheare to shew in misery,
Till Fortune would her captiue bonds vnbynde,
Her sickenesse was not of the body but the mynde.

During which space that she thus sicke did lie, ix
It chaunst a sort of merchants, which were wount
To skim those coastes, for bondmen there to buy,
And by such trafficke after gaines to hunt,
Arriued in this Isle though bare and blunt,
T’inquire for slaues; where being readie met
By some of these same theeues at the instant[577] brunt,
Were brought vnto their Captaine, who was set
By his faire patients side with sorrowfull regret.

To whom they shewed, how those marchants were x
Arriu’d in place, their bondslaues for to buy,
And therefore prayd, that those same captiues there
Mote to them for their most commodity
Be sold, and mongst them shared equally.
This their request the Captaine much appalled;
Yet could he not their iust demaund deny,
And willed streight the slaues should forth be[578] called,
And sold for most aduantage not to be forstalled.

Then forth the good old _Melibœ_ was brought, xi
And _Coridon_, with many other moe,
Whom they before in diuerse spoyles had caught:
All which he to the marchants sale did showe.
Till some, which did the sundry prisoners knowe,
Gan to inquire for that[579] faire shepherdesse,
Which with the rest they tooke not long agoe,
And gan her forme and feature to expresse,
The more t’augment her price, through praise of comlinesse.

To whom the Captaine in full angry wize xii
Made answere, that the Mayd of whom they spake,
Was his owne purchase and his onely prize,
With which none had to doe, ne ought partake,
But he himselfe, which did that conquest make;
Litle for him to haue one silly lasse:
Besides through sicknesse now so wan and weake,
That nothing meet in marchandise to passe.
So shew’d them her, to proue how pale and weake she was.

The sight of whom, though now decayd and mard, xiii
And eke but hardly seene by candle-light,
Yet like a Diamond of rich regard,
In doubtfull shadow of the darkesome night,
With starrie beames about her shining bright,
These marchants fixed eyes did so amaze,
That what through wonder, and what through delight,
A while on her they greedily did gaze,
And did her greatly like, and did her greatly praize.

At last when all the rest them offred were, xiv
And prises[580] to them placed at their pleasure,
They all refused in regard of her,
Ne ought would buy, how euer prisd with measure,
Withouten her, whose worth aboue all threasure
They did esteeme, and offred store of gold.
But then the Captaine fraught with more displeasure,
Bad them be still, his loue should not be sold:
The rest take if they would, he her to him would hold.

Therewith some other of the chiefest theeues xv
Boldly him bad such iniurie forbeare;
For that same mayd, how euer it him greeues,
Should with the rest be sold before him theare,
To make the prises[581] of the rest more deare.
That with great rage he stoutly doth denay;
And fiercely drawing forth his blade, doth sweare,
That who so hardie hand on her doth lay,
It dearely shall aby, and death for handsell pay.

Thus as they words amongst them multiply, xvi
They fall to strokes, the frute of too much talke,
And the mad steele about doth fiercely fly,
Not sparing wight, ne leauing any balke,
But making way for death at large to walke:
Who in the horror of the griesly night,
In thousand dreadful shapes doth mongst them stalke,
And makes huge hauocke, whiles the candlelight
Out quenched, leaues no skill nor difference of wight.

Like as a sort of hungry dogs ymet xvii
About some carcase by the common way,
Doe fall together, stryuing each to get
The greatest portion of the greedie pray;
All on confused heapes themselues assay,
And snatch, and byte, and rend, and tug, and teare;
That who them sees, would wonder at their tray,
And who sees not, would be affrayd to heare.
Such was the conflict of those cruell _Brigants_ there.

But first of all, their captiues they doe kill, xviii
Least they should ioyne against the weaker side,
Or rise against the remnant at their will;
Old _Melibœ_ is slaine, and him beside
His aged wife, with many others wide,
But _Coridon_ escaping craftily,
Creepes forth of dores, whilst darknes him doth hide,
And flyes away as fast as he can hye,
Ne stayeth leaue to take, before his friends doe dye.

But _Pastorella_, wofull wretched Elfe, xix
Was by the Captaine all this while defended,
Who minding more her safety then himselfe,
His target alwayes ouer her pretended;[582]
By meanes whereof, that mote not be amended,
He at the length was slaine, and layd on ground,
Yet holding fast twixt both his armes extended
Fayre _Pastorell_, who with the selfe same wound
Launcht through the arme, fell down with him in drerie swound.

There lay she couered with confused preasse xx
Of carcases, which dying on her fell.
Tho when as he was dead, the fray gan ceasse,
And each to other calling, did compell
To stay their cruell hands from slaughter fell,
Sith they that were the cause of all, were gone.
Thereto they all attonce agreed well,
And lighting candles new, gan search anone,
How many of their friends were slaine, how many fone.

Their Captaine there they cruelly found kild, xxi
And in his armes the dreary dying mayd,
Like a sweet Angell twixt two clouds vphild:
Her louely light was dimmed and decayd,
With cloud of death vpon her eyes displayd;
Yet did the cloud make euen that dimmed light
Seeme much more louely in that darknesse layd,
And twixt the twinckling of her eye-lids bright,
To sparke out litle beames, like starres in foggie night.

But when they mou’d the carcases aside, xxii
They found that life did yet in her remaine:
Then all their helpes they busily applyde,
To call the soule backe to her home againe;
And wrought so well with labour and long paine,
That they to life recouered her at last.
Who sighing sore, as if her hart in twaine
Had riuen bene, and all her hart strings brast,
With drearie drouping eyne lookt vp like one aghast.

There she beheld, that sore her grieu’d to see, xxiii
Her father and her friends about her lying,
Her selfe sole left, a second spoyle to bee
Of those, that hauing saued her from dying,
Renew’d her death by timely death denying:
What now is left her, but to wayle and weepe,
Wringing her hands, and ruefully loud crying?
Ne cared she her wound in teares to steepe,
Albe with all their might those _Brigants_ her did keepe.

But when they saw her now reliu’d[583] againe, xxiv
They left her so, in charge of one the best
Of many worst, who with vnkind disdaine
And cruell rigour her did much molest;
Scarse yeelding her due food, or timely rest,
And scarsely suffring her infestred wound,
That sore her payn’d, by any to be drest.
So leaue we her in wretched thraldome bound,
And turne we backe to _Calidore_, where we him found.

Who when he backe returned from the wood, xxv
And saw his shepheards cottage spoyled quight,
And his loue reft away, he wexed wood,
And halfe enraged at that ruefull sight,
That euen his hart for very fell despight,
And his owne flesh he readie was to teare,
He chauft, he grieu’d, he fretted, and he sight,
And fared like a furious wyld Beare,
Whose whelpes are stolne away, she being otherwhere.

Ne wight he found, to whom he might complaine, xxvi
Ne wight he found, of whom he might inquire;
That more increast the anguish of his paine.
He sought the woods; but no man could see there:[584]
He sought the plaines; but could no tydings heare.
The woods did nought but ecchoes vaine rebound;
The playnes all waste and emptie did appeare:
Where wont the shepheards oft their pypes resound,
And feed an hundred flocks, there now not one he found.

At last as there he romed vp and downe, xxvii
He chaunst one comming towards him to spy,
That seem’d to be some sorie simple clowne,
With ragged weedes, and lockes vpstaring hye,
As if he did from some late daunger fly,
And yet his feare did follow him behynd:
Who as he vnto him approched nye,
He mote perceiue by signes, which he did fynd,
That _Coridon_ it was, the silly shepherds hynd.

Tho to him running fast, he did not stay xxviii
To greet him first, but askt where were the rest;
Where _Pastorell_? who full of fresh dismay,
And gushing forth in teares, was so opprest,
That he no word could speake, but smit his brest,
And vp to heauen his eyes fast streming threw.
Whereat the knight amaz’d, yet did not rest,
But askt againe, what ment that rufull hew;
Where was his _Pastorell_? where all the other crew?

Ah well away (sayd he then sighing sore) xxix
That euer I did liue, this day to see,
This dismall day, and was not dead before,
Before I saw faire _Pastorella_ dye.
Die? out alas![585] then _Calidore_ did cry:
How could the death dare euer her to quell?
But read thou shepheard, read what destiny,
Or other dyrefull hap from heauen or hell
Hath wrought this wicked deed, doe feare away, and tell.

Tho when the shepheard breathed had a whyle, xxx
He thus began: Where[586] shall I then commence
This wofull tale? or how those _Brigants_ vyle,
With cruell rage and dreadfull violence
Spoyld all our cots, and caried vs from hence?
Or how faire _Pastorell_ should haue bene sold
To marchants, but was sau’d with strong defence?
Or how those theeues, whilest one sought her to hold,
Fell all at ods, and fought through fury fierce and bold.

In that same conflict (woe is me) befell xxxi
This fatall chaunce, this dolefull accident,
Whose heauy tydings now I haue to tell.
First all the captiues, which they here had hent,
Were by them slaine by generall consent;
Old _Melibœ_ and his good wife withall
These eyes saw die, and dearely did lament:
But when the lot to _Pastorell_ did fall,
Their Captaine long withstood, and did her death forstall.

But what could he gainst all them doe alone?[587] xxxii
It could not boot, needs mote she die at last:
I onely scapt through great confusione
Of cryes and clamors, which amongst them past,
In dreadfull darknesse dreadfully aghast;
That better were with them to haue bene dead,
Then here to see all desolate and wast,
Despoyled of those ioyes and iollyhead,[588]
Which with those gentle shepherds here I wont to lead.

When _Calidore_ these ruefull newes had raught, xxxiii
His hart quite deaded was with anguish great,
And all his wits with doole were nigh distraught,
That he his face, his head, his brest did beat,
And death it selfe vnto himselfe did threat;
Oft cursing th’heauens, that so cruell were
To her, whose name he often did repeat;
And wishing oft, that he were present there,
When she was slaine, or had bene to her succour nere.

But after griefe awhile had had his course, xxxiv
And spent it selfe in mourning, he at last
Began to mitigate his swelling sourse,
And in his mind with better reason cast,
How he might saue her life, if life did last;
Or if that dead, how he her death might wreake,
Sith otherwise he could not mend thing past;
Or if it to reuenge he were too weake,
Then for to die with her, and his liues threed to breake.

Tho _Coridon_ he prayd, sith he well knew xxxv
The readie way vnto that theeuish wonne,
To wend with him, and be his conduct trew
Vnto the place, to see what should be donne.
But he, whose hart through feare was late fordonne,
Would not for ought be drawne to former drede,
But by all meanes the daunger knowne did shonne:
Yet _Calidore_ so well him wrought with meed,
And faire bespoke with words, that he at last agreed.

So forth they goe together (God before) xxxvi
Both clad in shepheards weeds agreeably,
And both with shepheards hookes: But _Calidore_
Had vnderneath, him armed priuily.
Tho to the place when they[589] approched nye,
They chaunst, vpon an hill not farre away,
Some flockes of sheepe and shepheards to espy;
To whom they both agreed to take their way,
In hope there newes to learne, how they mote best assay.

There did they find, that which they did not feare, xxxvii
The selfe same flocks, the which those theeues had reft
From _Melibœ_ and from themselues[590] whyleare,
And certaine of the theeues there by them left,
The which for want of heards themselues then kept.
Right well knew _Coridon_ his owne late sheepe,
And seeing them, for tender pittie wept:
But when he saw the theeues, which did them keepe,[591]
His hart gan fayle, albe he saw them all asleepe.

But _Calidore_ recomforting his griefe, xxxviii
Though not his feare; for nought may feare disswade;
Him hardly forward drew, whereas the thiefe
Lay sleeping soundly in the bushes shade,
Whom _Coridon_ him counseld to inuade
Now all vnwares, and take the spoyle away;
But he, that in his mind had closely made
A further purpose, would not so them slay,
But gently waking them, gaue them the time of day.

Tho sitting downe by them vpon the greene, xxxix
Of sundrie things he purpose gan to faine;
That he by them might certaine tydings weene
Of _Pastorell_, were she aliue or slaine.
Mongst which the theeues them questioned againe,
What mister men, and eke from whence they were.
To whom they answer’d, as did appertaine,
That they were poore heardgroomes, the which whylere
Had from their maisters fled, and now sought hyre elswhere.

Whereof right glad they seem’d, and offer made xl
To hyre them well, if they their flockes would keepe:
For they themselues were euill groomes, they sayd,
Vnwont with heards to watch, or pasture sheepe,
But to forray the land, or scoure the deepe.
Thereto they soone agreed, and earnest tooke,
To keepe their flockes for litle hyre and chepe:
For they for better hyre did shortly looke,
So there all day they bode, till light the sky forsooke.

Tho when as towards darksome night it drew, xli
Vnto their hellish dens those theeues them brought,
Where shortly they in great acquaintance grew,
And all the secrets of their entrayles sought.
There did they find, contrarie to their thought,
That _Pastorell_ yet liu’d, but all the rest
Were dead, right so as _Coridon_ had taught:
Whereof they both full glad and blyth did rest,
But chiefly _Calidore_, whom griefe had most possest.

At length when they occasion fittest found, xlii
In dead of night, when all the theeues did rest
After a late forray, and slept full sound,
Sir _Calidore_ him arm’d, as he thought best,
Hauing of late by diligent inquest,
Prouided him a sword of meanest sort:
With which he streight went to the Captaines nest.
But _Coridon_ durst not with him consort,
Ne durst abide behind, for dread of worse effort.

When to the Caue they came, they found it fast: xliii
But _Calidore_ with huge resistlesse might,
The dores assayled, and the locks vpbrast.
With noyse whereof the theefe awaking light,
Vnto the entrance ran: where the bold knight
Encountring him with small resistance slew;
The whiles faire _Pastorell_ through great affright
Was almost dead, misdoubting least of new
Some vprore were like that, which lately she did vew.

But when as _Calidore_ was comen in, xliv
And gan aloud for _Pastorell_ to call,
Knowing his voice although not heard long sin,
She sudden was reuiued therewithall,
And wondrous ioy felt in her spirits thrall:
Like him that being long in tempest tost,
Looking each houre into deathes mouth to fall,
At length espyes at hand the happie cost,
On which he safety hopes, that earst feard to be lost.

Her gentle hart, that now long season past xlv
Had neuer ioyance felt, nor chearefull thought,
Began some smacke of comfort new to tast,
Like lyfull[592] heat to nummed senses brought,
And life to feele, that long for death had sought;
Ne lesse in hart reioyced _Calidore_,
When he her found, but like to one distraught
And robd of reason, towards her him bore,
A thousand times embrast, and kist a thousand more.

But now by this, with noyse of late vprore, xlvi
The hue and cry was raysed all about;
And all the _Brigants_ flocking in great store,
Vnto the caue gan preasse, nought hauing dout
Of that was doen, and entred in a rout.
But _Calidore_ in th’entry close did stand,
And entertayning them with courage stout,
Still slew the formost, that came first to hand,
So long till all the entry was with bodies mand.

Tho when no more could nigh to him approch, xlvii
He breath’d his sword, and rested him till day,
Which when he spyde vpon the earth t’encroch,
Through the dead carcases he made his way,
Mongst which he found a sword of better say,
With which he forth went into th’open light:
Where all the rest for him did readie stay,
And fierce assayling him, with all their might
Gan all vpon him lay: there gan a dreadfull fight.

How many flyes in whottest sommers day xlviii
Do seize vpon some beast, whose flesh is bare,
That all the place with swarmes do ouerlay,
And with their litle stings right felly fare,
So many theeues about him swarming are,
All which do him assayle on euery side,
And sore oppresse, ne any him doth spare:
But he doth with his raging brond diuide
Their thickest troups, and round about him scattreth wide.

Like as a Lion mongst an heard of dere, xlix
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 themselues conuay
Into their caues, their heads from death to hide,
Ne any left, that victorie to him enuide.

Then backe returning to his dearest deare, l
He her gan to recomfort, all he might,
With gladfull speaches, and with louely cheare,
And forth her bringing to the ioyous light,
Whereof she long had lackt the wishfull sight,
Deuiz’d all goodly meanes, from her to driue
The sad remembrance of her wretched plight.
So her vneath at last he did reuiue,
That long had lyen dead, and made againe aliue.

This doen, into those theeuish dens he went, li
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 loue betake;
And also all those flockes, which they before
Had reft from _Melibœ_ and from his make,
He did them all to _Coridon_ restore.[593]
So droue them all away, and his loue with him bore.

FOOTNOTES:

[572] xliv 3 (Where _1609_

[573] 7 glade) _1609_

[574] 8 But] And _1609_

[575] iii 7 eyes _1609_

[576] iv 6 shewed _1609_

[577] ix 7 th’instant _1609_

[578] x 8 be] he _1609_

[579] xi 6 that] the _1609_

[580] xiv 2 prices _1609_

[581] xv 5 prices _1609_

[582] xix 4 protended _conj. Collier_

[583] xxiv 1 reuiv’d _1609_

[584] xxvi 4 there, _1596_

[585] xxix 5 alas _1596_, _1609_

[586] xxx 2 where _1596_

[587] xxxii 1 alone: _1596_

[588] 8 iolly head _1596_, _1609_

[589] xxxvi 5 they] him _1609_

[590] xxxvii 3 themseles _1596_

[591] 8 keepe _1596_

[592] xlv 4 lifefull _1609_

_Cant. XII._

_Fayre Pastorella by great hap
her parents understands,
Calidore doth the Blatant beast
subdew, and bynd in bands._
]

Like as a ship, that through the Ocean wyde i
Directs her course vnto one certaine cost,
Is met of many a counter winde and tyde,
With which her winged speed is let and crost,
And she her selfe 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 neuer is astray.

For all that hetherto hath long delayd ii
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,
Euen vnto the lowest and the least.
But now I come into my course againe,
To his atchieuement 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 iii
Faire _Pastorella_ from those _Brigants_ powre,
Vnto 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 euer wielded speare,
And had endured many a dreadfull stoure
In bloudy battell for a Ladie deare,
The fayrest Ladie then of all that liuing were.

Her name was _Claribell_, whose father hight iv
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 haue bound
Vnto the Prince of _Picteland_ bordering nere,
But she whose sides before with secret wound
Of loue to _Bellamoure_ empierced were,
By all meanes shund to match with any forrein fere.

And _Bellamour_ againe so well her pleased, v
With dayly seruice and attendance dew,
That of her loue he was entyrely seized,
And closely did her wed, but knowne to few.
Which when her father vnderstood, he grew
In so great rage, that them in dongeon deepe
Without compassion cruelly he threw;
Yet did so streightly them a sunder keepe,
That neither could to company of th’other creepe.

Nathlesse Sir _Bellamour_, whether through grace vi
Or secret guifts so with his keepers wrought,
That to his loue sometimes he came in place,
Whereof her wombe vnwist to wight was fraught,
And in dew time a mayden child forth brought.
Which she streight way for dread least, if her syre
Should know thereof, to slay he would haue sought,
Deliuered to her handmayd, that for hyre
She should it cause be fostred vnder straunge attyre.

The trustie damzell bearing it abrode vii
Into the emptie fields, where liuing wight
Mote not bewray the secret of her lode,
She forth gan lay vnto the open light
The litle babe, to take thereof a sight.
Whom whylest she did with watrie eyne behold,
Vpon the litle brest like christall bright,
She mote perceiue a litle purple mold,
That like a rose her silken leaues did faire vnfold.

Well she it markt, and pittied the more, viii
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 heauens grace
Would for the wretched infants helpe prouyde,
For which it loudly cald, and pittifully cryde.

At length a Shepheard, which there by did keepe ix
His fleecie flocke vpon 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 vnbound;
And seeing there, that did him pittie sore,
He tooke it vp, and in his mantle wound;
So home vnto his honest wife it bore,
Who as her owne it nurst, and named euermore.

Thus long continu’d _Claribell_ a thrall, x
And _Bellamour_ in bands, till that her syre
Departed life, and left vnto them all.
Then all the stormes of fortunes former yre
Were turnd, and they to freedome did retyre.
Thenceforth they ioy’d in happinesse together,
And liued long in peace and loue entyre,
Without disquiet or dislike of ether[594],
Till time that _Calidore_ brought _Pastorella_ thether

Both whom they goodly well did entertaine; xi
For _Bellamour_ knew _Calidore_ right well,
And loued for his prowesse, sith they twaine
Long since had fought in field. Als _Claribell_
No lesse did tender the faire _Pastorell_,
Seeing her weake and wan, through durance long.
There they a while together thus did dwell
In much delight, and many ioyes among,
Vntill the damzell gan to wex more sound and strong.

Tho gan Sir _Calidore_ him to aduize xii
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 reprochfull blame
With foule dishonour him mote blot therefore;
Besides the losse of so much loos[595] and fame,
As through the world thereby should glorifie his name.

Therefore resoluing to returne in hast xiii
Vnto so great atchieuement, he bethought
To leaue his loue, now perill being past,
With _Claribell_, whylest he that monster sought
Throughout[596] the world, and to destruction brought.
So taking leaue 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 aduentures tell, xiv
In this exploite, me needeth to declare,
What did betide to the faire _Pastorell_,
During his absence left in heauy 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 Mayden faire xv
Was dighting her, hauing her snowy brest
As yet not laced, nor her golden haire
Into their comely tresses dewly drest,
Chaunst to espy vpon her yuory chest
The rosie marke, which she remembred well
That litle Infant had, which forth she kest,
The daughter of her Lady _Claribell_,
The which she bore, the whiles in prison she did dwell.

Which well auizing, streight she gan to cast xvi
In her conceiptfull mynd, that this faire Mayd
Was that same infant, which so long sith[597] past
She in the open fields had loosely layd
To fortunes spoile, vnable it to ayd.
So full of ioy, streight forth she ran in hast
Vnto her mistresse, being halfe dismayd,
To tell her, how the heauens had her graste,
To saue her chylde, which in misfortunes mouth was plaste.

The sober mother seeing such her mood, xvii
Yet knowing not, what meant that sodaine thro,
Askt her, how mote her words be vnderstood,
And what the matter was, that mou’d her so.
My liefe (sayd she) ye know, that long ygo,
Whilest ye in durance dwelt, ye to me gaue
A little mayde, the which ye chylded tho;
The same againe if now ye list to haue,
The same is yonder Lady, whom high God did saue.

Much was the Lady troubled at that speach, xviii
And gan to question streight how she it knew.
Most certaine markes, (sayd she) do me it teach,
For on her brest I with these eyes did vew
The litle purple rose, which thereon grew,
Whereof her name ye then to her did giue.
Besides her countenaunce, and her likely hew,
Matched with equall yeares, do surely prieue
That yond same is your daughter sure, which yet doth liue[598].

The matrone stayd no lenger to enquire, xix
But forth in hast ran to the straunger Mayd;
Whom catching greedily for great desire,
Rent vp her brest, and bosome open layd,
In which that rose she plainely saw displayd.
Then her embracing twixt her armes twaine,
She long so held, and softly weeping sayd;
And liuest thou my daughter now againe?
And art thou yet aliue, whom dead I long did faine[599]?

Tho further asking her of sundry things, xx
And times comparing with their accidents,
She found at last by very certaine signes,
And speaking markes of passed monuments,
That this young Mayd, whom chance to her presents
Is her owne daughter, her owne infant deare.
Tho wondring long at those so straunge euents,
A thousand times she her embraced nere,
With many a ioyfull kisse, and many a melting teare.

Who euer is the mother of one chylde, xxi
Which hauing thought long dead, she fyndes aliue,
Let her by proofe of that, which she hath fylde
In her owne breast, this mothers ioy descriue:
For other none such passion can contriue
In perfect forme, as this good Lady felt,
When she so faire a daughter saw suruiue,
As _Pastorella_ was, that nigh she swelt
For passing ioy, which did all into pitty melt.

Thence running forth vnto her loued Lord, xxii
She vnto him recounted, all that fell:
Who ioyning ioy with her in one accord,
Acknowledg’d for his owne faire _Pastorell_.
There leaue we them in ioy, and let vs tell
Of _Calidore_, who seeking all this while
That monstrous Beast by finall force to quell,
Through euery place, with restlesse paine and toile
Him follow’d, by the tract[600] of his outragious spoile.

Through all estates he found that he had past, xxiii
In which he many massacres had left,
And to the Clergy now was come at last;
In which such spoile, such hauocke, and such theft
He wrought, that thence all goodnesse he bereft,
That endlesse were to tell. The Elfin Knight,
Who now no place besides vnsought had left,
At length into a Monastere did light,
Where he him found despoyling all with maine and might.

Into their cloysters now he broken had, xxiv
Through which the Monckes he chaced here and there,
And them pursu’d into their dortours sad,
And searched all their cels and secrets neare;
In which what filth and ordure did appeare,
Were yrkesome to report; yet that foule Beast
Nought sparing them, the more did tosse and teare,
And ransacke all their dennes from most to least,
Regarding nought religion, nor their holy heast.

From thence into the sacred Church he broke, xxv
And robd the Chancell, and the deskes downe threw,
And Altars fouled, and blasphemy spoke,
And th’Images for all their goodly hew,
Did cast to ground, whilest none was them to rew;
So all confounded and disordered there.
But seeing _Calidore_, away he flew,
Knowing his fatall hand by former feare;
But he him fast pursuing, soone approched neare.

Him in a narrow place he ouertooke, xxvi
And fierce assailing forst him turne againe:
Sternely he turnd againe, when he him strooke
With his sharpe steele, and ran at him amaine
With open mouth, that seemed to containe
A full good pecke within the vtmost brim,
All set with yron teeth in raunges[601] twaine,
That terrifide his foes, and armed him,
Appearing like the mouth of _Orcus_ griesly grim.

And therein were a thousand tongs empight, xxvii
Of sundry kindes, and sundry quality,
Some were of dogs, that barked day and night,
And some of cats, that wrawling still did cry,
And some of Beares, that groynd continually,
And some of Tygres, that did seeme to gren,
And snar at all, that euer passed by:
But most of them were tongues of mortall men,
Which spake reprochfully, not caring where nor when.

And them amongst were mingled here and there, xxviii
The tongues of Serpents with three forked stings,
That spat out poyson and gore bloudy gere
At all, that came within his rauenings,
And spake licentious words, and hatefull things
Of good and bad alike, of low and hie;
Ne Kesars spared he a whit, nor Kings,
But either blotted them with infamie,
Or bit them with his banefull teeth of iniury.

But _Calidore_ thereof no whit afrayd, xxix
Rencountred him with so impetuous might,
That th’outrage of his violence he stayd,
And bet abacke, threatning in vaine to bite,
And spitting[602] forth the poyson of his spight,
That fomed all about his bloody iawes.
Tho rearing vp his former feete on hight,
He rampt vpon him with his rauenous pawes,
As if he would haue rent him with his cruell clawes.

But he right well aware, his rage to ward, xxx
Did cast his shield atweene, and therewithall
Putting his puissaunce forth, pursu’d so hard,
That backeward he enforced him to fall,
And being downe, ere he new helpe could call,
His shield he on him threw, and fast downe held,
Like as a bullocke, that in bloudy stall
Of butchers balefull hand to ground is feld,
Is forcibly kept downe, till he be throughly queld.

Full cruelly the Beast did rage and rore, xxxi
To be downe held, and maystred so with might,
That he gan fret and fome out bloudy gore,
Striuing in vaine to rere him selfe vpright.
For still the more he stroue, the more the Knight
Did him suppresse, and forcibly subdew;
That made him almost mad for fell despight.
He grind, hee bit, he scratcht, he venim threw,
And fared like a feend, right horrible in hew.

Or like the hell-borne _Hydra_, which they faine xxxii
That great _Alcides_ whilome ouerthrew,
After that he had labourd long in vaine,
To crop his thousand heads, the which still new
Forth budded, and in greater number grew.
Such was the fury of this hellish Beast,
Whilest _Calidore_ him vnder him downe threw;
Who nathemore his heauy load releast,
But aye the more he rag’d, the more his powre increast.

Tho when the Beast saw, he mote nought auaile, xxxiii
By force, he gan his hundred tongues apply,
And sharpely at him to reuile and raile,
With bitter termes of shamefull infamy;
Oft interlacing many a forged lie,
Whose like he neuer once did speake, nor heare,
Nor euer thought thing so vnworthily:
Yet did he nought for all that him forbeare,
But strained him so streightly, that he chokt him neare.

At last when as he found his force to shrincke, xxxiv
And rage to quaile, he tooke a muzzell strong
Of surest yron, made with many a lincke;
Therewith he mured vp his mouth along,
And therein shut vp his blasphemous tong,
For neuer more defaming gentle Knight,
Or vnto louely Lady doing wrong:
And thereunto a great long chaine he tight,
With which he drew him forth, euen in his own despight.

Like as whylome that strong _Tirynthian_ swaine, xxxv
Brought forth with him the dreadfull dog of hell,
Against his will fast bound in yron chaine,
And roring horribly, did him compell
To see the hatefull sunne, that he might tell
To griesly _Pluto_, what on earth was donne,
And to the other damned ghosts, which dwell
For aye in darkenesse, which day light doth shonne.
So led this Knight his captyue with like conquest wonne.

Yet greatly did the Beast repine at those xxxvi
Straunge bands, whose like till then he neuer bore,
Ne euer any durst till then impose,
And chauffed inly, seeing now no more
Him liberty was left aloud to rore:
Yet durst he not draw backe; nor once withstand
The proued powre of noble _Calidore_,
But trembled vnderneath his mighty hand,
And like a fearefull dog him followed through the land.

Him through all Faery land he follow’d so, xxxvii
As if he learned had obedience long,
That all the people where so he did go,
Out of their townes did round about him throng,
To see him leade that Beast in bondage strong,
And seeing it, much wondred at the sight;
And all such persons, as he earst did wrong,
Reioyced much to see his captiue plight,
And much admyr’d the Beast, but more admyr’d the Knight.

Thus was this Monster by the maystring might xxxviii
Of doughty _Calidore_, supprest and tamed,
That neuer more he mote endammadge wight
With his vile tongue, which many had defamed,
And many causelesse caused to be blamed:
So did he eeke long after this remaine,
Vntill that, whether wicked fate so framed,
Or fault of men, he broke his yron chaine,
And got into the world at liberty againe.

Thenceforth more mischiefe and more scath[603] he wrought xxxix
To mortall men, then he had done before;
Ne euer could by any more be brought
Into like bands, ne maystred any more:
Albe that long time after _Calidore_,
The good Sir _Pelleas_ him tooke in hand,
And after him Sir _Lamoracke_ of yore,
And all his brethren borne in Britaine land;
Yet none of them could euer bring him into band.

So now he raungeth through the world againe, xl
And rageth sore in each degree and state;
Ne any is, that may him now restraine,
He growen is so great and strong of late,
Barking and biting all that him doe bate,
Albe they worthy blame, or cleare of crime:
Ne spareth he most learned[604] wits to rate,
Ne spareth he the gentle Poets rime,
But rends without regard of person or of time.

Ne may this homely verse, of many meanest, xli
Hope[605] to escape his venemous despite,
More then my former writs, all were they clearest[606]
From blamefull blot, and free from all that wite,
With which some wicked tongues[607] did it backebite,
And bring into a mighty Peres displeasure,
That neuer so deserued to endite.
Therfore do you my rimes keep better measure,
And seeke to please, that now is counted wisemens threasure.

FOOTNOTES:

[593] li 8 restore _1596_

[594] x 8 either _1609_

[595] xii 8 loos] praise _1609_

[596] xiii 5 Troughout _1596_

[597] xvi 3 sith] since _1609_

[598] xviii 9 liue _1596_

[599] xix 9 faine. _1596_

[600] xxii 9 track _1609_

[601] xxvi 7 ranges _1609_

[602] xxix 5 spetting _1609_

[603] xxxix i scathe _1609_

[604] xl 7 learned] gentle _1609_

[605] xli 2 H’ope _1596_

[606] 3 clearest] cleanest _conj. Hughes_

[607] 5 tongnes _1596_

_FINIS._

TWO CANTOS
OF
_MUTABILITIE_:

Which, both for Forme and Matter, appeare
to be parcell of some following Booke of the
_FAERIE QVEENE_,

⁂

VNDER THE LEGEND
OF
_Constancie_.
Neuer before imprinted.