Till that by fortune paffing all forefight,
A falvage man, which in those woods did wonne,
Drawn with that Ladies loud and piteous fhright,
Toward the fame inceffantly did rone,
To understand what there was to be done.
There he this most discourteous craven found,
As fiercely yet, as when he first begun,
Chafing the gentle Calepine around,
Ne fparing him the more for all his grievous wound.
III.
The falvage man, that never till this hour
Did taste of pity, neither gentlefs knew,
Seeing his fharp affault and cruel ftour
Was much emmoved at his perils view;
That even his ruder heart began to rue,
And feel compaffion of his evil plight,
Against his foe, that did him fo pursue:
From whom he meant to free him, if he might,
And him avenge of that fo villainous defpight.
IV.
Yet arms or weapon had he none to fight,
Ne knew the ufe of warlike inftruments,
Save fuch as fudden rage him lent to fmite;
But naked without needful veftiments,
To clad his corpfe with meet habiliments,
He cared not for dint of fword nor fpear,
No more than for the ftrokes of ftraws or bents:
For from his mothers womb, which him did bear,
He was invulnerable made by magick lear.
He stayd not to advife which way were best
His foe t'affail, or how himself to guard;
But with fierce fury and with force infeft
Upon him ran who being well prepar'd:
His firft affault full warily did ward,
And with the pufh of his fharp-pointed fpear
Full on the breaft him ftrook, so strong and hard,
That forc'd him back recoil, and reel arear;
Yet in his body made no wound nor blood appear.
With that, the wild man more enraged grew,
Like to a Tyger that hath mift his prey,
And with mad mood again upon him flew,
Regarding neither fpear that mote him flay,
Nor his fierce fteed, that mote him much difmay.
The falvage nation doth all dread defpife:
Tho on his fhield he griple hold did lay,
And held the fame fo hard, that by no wife
He could him force to loofe, or leave his enterprise.
Long did he wreft and wring it to and fro,
And every way did try, but all in vain;
For he would not his greedy gripe forego,
But hall'd and pulld with all his might and main,
That from his fteed him nigh he drew again.
Who having now no ufe of his long spear,
So nigh at hand, nor force his fhield to ftrain,
Both fpear and fhield, as things that needlefs were,
He quite forfook, and fled himself away for fear.
But after him the wild man ran apace,
And him purfued with importune speed:
(For he was swift as any Buck in chace)
And had he not in his extreameft need,
Been helped through the fwiftnefs of his steed,
He had him overtaken in his flight.
Who ever as he faw him nigh fucceed,
Gan cry aloud with horrible affright,
And fhrieked out; a thing uncomely for a Knight.
IX.
But when the Salvage faw his labour vain,
In following of him that fled fo fast,
He weary woxe, and back return'd again
With speed unto the place, whereas he last
Had left that couple, near their utmost caft.
There he that Knight full forely bleeding found,
And eke the Lady fearfully aghaft,
Both for the peril of the prefent ftound,
And alfo for the fharpnefs of her rankling wound.
X.
For though fhe were right glad, fo rid to be
From that vile Lofell, which her late offended;
Yet now no lefs encombrance fhe did fee,
And peril by this Salvage-man pretended;
Gainft whom the faw no means to be defended,
By reason that her Knight was wounded fore.
Therefore herself fhe wholly recommended
To Gods fole grace, whom she did oft implore,
To fend her fuccour, being of all hope forlore.
XI.
But the wild man, contrary to her fear,
Came to her, creeping like a fawning hound,
And by rude tokens made to her appear
His deep compaffion of her doleful ftound,
Kiffing his hands, and crouching to the ground;
For other language had he none nor fpeech,
But a foft murmur, and confufed found
Of fenfelefs words, which nature did him teach, T'exprefs his paffions, which his reafon did empeach. XII.
And coming likewife to the wounded Knight,
When he beheld the ftreams of purple blood
Yet flowing fresh; as moved with the fight,
He made great moan, after his falvage mood:
And running ftraight into the thickest wood,
A certain herb from thence unto him brought,
Whofe vertue he by ufe well understood :
The juice whereof into his wound he wrought,
And ftopt the bleeding ftraight, ere he it ftaunched
[thought.
Then taking up that recreants fhield and fpear,
Which earft he left, he figns unto them made,
With him to wend unto his wonning near;
To which he cafily did them perfuade.
Far in the foreft by a hollow glade,
Cover'd with moffy fhrubs, which spreading broad Did underneath them make a gloomy fhade; Where foot of living creature never trode, [abode. Ne fcarce wild beafts durft come, there was this wights
Thither he brought thefe unacquainted guests;
To whom fair femblance, as he could, he fhew'd
By figns, by looks, and all his other gefts.
But the bare ground, with hoary mofs beftrow'd,
Must be their bed, their pillow was unfow'd,
And the fruits of the foreft was their feaft:
For their bad Steward neither plough'd nor fow'd,
Ne fed on flesh, ne ever of wild beaft
Did tafte the blood, obeying natures firft beheast,
XV.
Yet howfoever bafe and mean it were,
They took it well, and thanked God for all;
Which had them freed from that deadly fear,
And fav'd from being to that caitive thrall.
Here they of force (as fortune now did fall)
Compelled were themfelves awhile to reft,
Glad of that eafement, though it were but small ; That having there their wounds awhile redrest, They mote the abler be to pafs unto the rest.
During which time, that wild man did apply
His best endeavour, and his daily pain,
In feeking all the woods both far and nigh
For herbs to drefs their wounds; ftill feeming fain,
When ought he did, that did their liking gain.
So as ere long he had that Knightës wound
Recured well, and made him whole again:
But that fame Ladies hurt no herb he found,
Which could redress, for it was inwardly unfound.
XVII.
Now whenas Calipine was woxen strong,
Upon a day he caft abroad to wend,
To take the air, and hear the Thrushes fong,
Unarm'd, as fearing neither foe nor friend,
And without fword his person to defend.
There him befell, unlooked for before,
An hard adventure with unhappy end,
A cruel Bear, the which an Infant bore
Betwixt his bloody-jaws, befprinkled all with gore.
XVIII.
The little babe did loudly fhriek and fquall,
And all the woods with piteous plaints did fill,
As if his cry did mean for help to call
To Calepine, whofe ears thofe fhriechës fhrill
Piercing his heart with pitys point did thrill;
That after him, he ran with zealous hafte,
To rescue th' infant, ere he did him kill:
Whom though he faw now fomewhat over-paft,
Yet by the cry he follow'd, and pursued fast.
Well then him chane'd his heavy arms to want,
Whose burden mote empeach his needful speed,
And hinder him from liberty to pant :
For having long time, as his daily weed,
Them wont to wear, and wend on foot for need;
Now wanting them he felt himself fo light,
That like an Hawk, which feeling herself freed
From bells and jeffes, which did let her flight,
Him feem'd his feet did fly, and in their speed delight.
XX.
So well he fped him, that the weary Bear
Ere long he over-took, and forc'd to ftay;
And without weapon him affailing near,
Compel'd him foon the fpoil adown to lay.
Wherewith the beaft enrag'd to lofe his prey,
Upon him turned, and with greedy force
And fury, to be croffed in his way,
Gaping full wide, did think without remorse
To be aveng'd on him, and to devour his corfe.
XXI.
But the bold Knight no whit thereat difmay'd:
But catching up in hand a ragged stone,
Which lay thereby (fo fortune him did aid)
Upon him ran, and thruft it all attone
Into his gaping throte, that made him groane
And gafp for breath, that he nigh choked was,
Being unable to digeft that bone;
Ne could it upward come, nor downward pafs Ne could he brook the coldnefs of the ftony mals.
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