In which this Lady languisheth forlorne, Whom well he wist to be some enemy,
That pitty craves, as he of woman was yborne.' That meant to make advantage of his misery.
Gan cry aloud with horrible affright,
With him to wend unto his wonning neare;
And shrieked out, a thing uncomely for a To which he easily did them perswade.
Farre in the forrest, by a hollow glade [brode
Covered with mossie shrubs, which spredding
Did underneath them make a gloomy shade,
Where foot of living creature never trode,
Ne scarse wyld beasts durst come, there was
this wights abode.
Yet, howsoever base and meane it were,
They tooke it well, and thanked God for all,
Which had them freed from that deadly feare,
And sav'd from being to that caytive thrall.
Compelled were themselves awhile to rest,
Here they of force (as fortune now did fall)
Glad of that easement, though it were but
small;
That having there their wounds awhile redrest,
They mote the abler be to passe unto the rest.
During which time that wyld man did apply [empeach. His best endevour and his daily paine In seeking all the woods both farre and nye For herbes to dresse their wounds; still seeming faine
And, comming likewise to the wounded
knight,
When he beheld the streames of purple blood
Yet flowing fresh, as moved with the sight,
He made great mone after his salvage mood:
And, running streight into the thickest wood,
A certaine herbe from thence unto him,
When ought he did, that did their lyking gaine.
Recured well, and made him whole againe;
So as ere long he had that knightes wound
Which could redresse, for it was inwardly
But that same Ladies hurt no herbe he found
Now when as Calepine was woxen strong,
Upon a day he cast abrode to wend,
To take the ayre and heare the thrushes song,
Unarm'd, as fearing neither foe nor frend,
And without sword his person to defend :
There him befell, unlooked for before,
An hard adventure with unhappie end,
A cruell Beare, the which an infant bore [gore.
Betwixt his bloodie jawes, besprinckled all with-
'What be you, wofull Dame, which thus la- That now the same he greatly doth forthinke. ment, [repent.' Yet was it sayd, there should to him a sonne And for what cause, declare; so mote ye not Be gotten, not begotten; which should drinke And dry up all the water which doth ronne In the next brooke, by whom that feend shold be fordonne.
To whom she thus: What need me, Sir, to
tell
[right?
That which your selfe have earst ared so
A wofull dame ye have me termed well;
So much more wofull, as my wofuil plight
Cannot redressed be by living wight!'
'Nathlesse,' (quoth he) 'if need doe not you
bynd,
Doe it disclose to ease your grieved spright:
Oftimes it haps that sorrowes of the mynd
Find remedie unsought, which seeking cannot
fynd.'
'For th' heavens, envying our prosperitie,
Have not vouchsaft to graunt unto us twaine
The gladfull blessing of posteritie,
Which we might see after our selves remaine
In th' heritage of our unhappie paine:
So that for want of heires it to defend,
All is in time like to returne againe
To that foule feend, who dayly doth attend
To leape into the same after our lives end
XXXII
'But most my Lord is grieved herewithall, And makes exceeding mone, when he does thinke
That all this land unto his foe shall fall,
For which he long in vaine did sweate and
swinke,
'Well hop't he then, when this was prophe-
side,
[rize,
That from his sides some noble chyld should
The which through fame should farre be mag-
nitide,
And this proud gyant should with brave emprize
Quite overthrow; who now ginnes to despize
Who thinkes from me his sorrow all doth rize.
The good Sir Bruin growing farre in yeares,
Lo! this my cause of griefe to you appeares;
For which I thus doe mourne, and poure forth
ceaselesse teares.'
Which when he heard, he inly touched was
With tender ruth for her unworthy griefe;
And, when he had devized of her case,
He gan in mind conceive a fit reliefe
For all her paine, if please her make the priefe;
And, having cheared her, thus said: Faire
Dame,
In evils counsell is the comfort chiefe;
Which though I be not wise enough to frame,
Yet, as I well it meane, vouchsafe it without
blame.
If that the cause of this your languishment
Be lacke of children to supply your place,
Lo! how good fortune doth to you present
This litle babe, of sweete and lovely face,
And spotlesse spirit in which ye may enchace
Whatever formes ye list thereto apply,
Being now soft and fit them to embrace;
Whether ye list him traine in chevalry,
Or noursle up in lore of learn'd Philosophy.
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