Whom whenas he thus combred did behold,
Striving in vain that nigh his bowels braft,
He with him clos'd: and laying mighty hold
Upon his throat, did gripe his gorge so fast,
That wanting breath, him down to ground he caft;
And then oppreffing him with urgent pain,
Ere long enforc'd to breathe his utmost blast,
Nafhing his cruel teeth at him in vain,
[ftrain. And threatning his fharp claws, now wanting powre to
Then took he up betwixt his armës twain
The little babe, fweet relicks of his prey;
Whom pitying to hear fo fore complain,
From his foft eyes the tears he wip'd away,
And from his face the filth that did it ray:
And every little limb he fearcht around,
And every part, that under fweath-bands lay,
Left that the beafts fharp teeth had any wound.
Made in his tender flesh; but whole them all he found.
XXIV.
So having all his bands again up-tide,
He with him thought back to return again :
But when he lookt about on every fide,
To weet which way were best to entertain,
To bring him to the place where he would fain,
He could no path nor tract of foot defcry,
Ne by inquiry learn, nor guefs by aim.
For nought but woods and forefts far and nigh,
That all about did clofe the compafs of his eye.
XXV.
Much was he then encombred, ne could tell
Which way to take: now Weft he went awhile,
Then North; then neither, but as fortune fell.
So up and down he wandred many a mile,
With weary travel and uncertain toil,
Yet nought the nearer to his journeys end;
And evermore his lovely little fpoil
Crying for food did greatly him offend.
So all that day in wandring vainly he did fpend...
At laft, about the fetting of the Sun,
Himself out of the foreft he did wind,
And by good fortune the plain champion won :
Where looking all about, where he mote find
Some place of succour to content his mind,
At length he heard under the forests fide
A voice, that feemed of fome woman-kind,
Which to herself lamenting loudly cride,
And oft complain'd of fate, and fortune oft defide.
XXVII.
To whom approaching, whenas fhe perceiv'd
A ftranger wight in place, her plaint she stayd,
As if the doubted to have been deceiv'd,
Or loth to let her forrows be bewray'd.
Whom whenas Calepine faw fo dismay'd,
He to her drew, and with fair blandishment
Her chearing up, thus gently to her faid;
What be you woeful Dame, which thus lament? And for what cause declare, fo mote ye not repent. XXVIII.
To whom she thus; What need me Sir to tell
That which yourself have earft aread fo right?
A woeful Dame ye have me termed well;
So much more woeful, as my woeful plight
Cannot redreffed be by living wight.
Nath'lefs, quoth he, if need do not you bind,
Do it disclose, to cafe your grieved ipright :
Oft-times it haps, that forrows of the mind
Find remedy unfought, which feeking cannot find.
XXIX.
Then thus began the lamentable Dame;
Sith then ye needs will know the grief I hoard,
I am th' unfortunate Matilde by name,
The wife of bold Sir Bruin, who is Lord Of all this land, late conquer'd by his fword From a great Giant, called Cormoraunt; Whom he did overthrow by yonder ford, And in three battles did fo deadly daunt, That he dare not return for all his daily vaunt.
So is my Lord now feiz'd of all the land,
And in his fee, with peaceable estate,
And quietly doth hold it in his hand,
Ne any dares with him for it debate.
But to these happy fortunes, cruel Fate
Hath join'd one evil, which doth over-throw
All these our joys, and all our bliss abate,
And like in time to further ill to grow,
And all this land with endless lofs to overflow.
XXXI.
For th' heavens, envying our profperity,
Have not vouchfaft to grant unto us twain
The gladful bleffing of pofterity,
Which we might fee after our selves remain
In th'heritage of our unhappy pain:
So that for want of heirs it to defend,
All is in time like to return again
To that foul Fiend, who daily doth attend
To leap into the fame after our lives end.
XXXII.
But most my Lord is grieved here-withall,
And makes exceeding moan, when he does think
That all this land unto his foe fhall fall,
For which he long in vain did sweat and swink,
That now the fame he greatly doth forthink.
Yet was it faid, there fhould to him a Son
Be gotten, not begotten, which fhould drink
And dry up all the water, which doth rone
In the next brook, by whom that Fiend fhould be fordone.
XXXIII.
Well hop'd he then, when this was prophefide,
That from his fide fome noble child fhould rife,
The which, through fame should far be magnifide,
And this proud Giant should with brave emprise
Quite overthrow, who now 'gins to despise
The good Sir Bruin, growing far in years;
Who thinks from me his forrow all doth rife.
Lo, this my cause of grief to you appears;
For which I thus do mourn, and pour forth ceafelefs tears.
Which when he heard, he inly touched was
With tender ruth for her unworthy grief:
And when he had devized of her cafe,
He 'gan in mind conceive a fit relief
For all her pain, if please her make the prief.
And having cheared her, thus faid; fair Dame,
In evils, counfel is the comfort chief:
Which though I be not wife enough to frame,
Yet as I well it mean, vouchfafe it without blame.
XXXV.
If that the caufe of this your languishment
Be lack of children, to fupply your place;
Lo how good fortune doth to you present
This little babe of fweet and lovely face,
And spotlefs fprite, in which ye may enchace
Whatever forms ye lift thereto apply,
Being now foft and fit them to embrace;
Whether ye lift him train in chevalry,
Or nourile up in lore of learn'd philofophy.
XXXVI.
And certes it hath often-times been seen,
That of the like whofe linage was unknown,
More brave and noble Knights have raised been
(As their victorious deeds have often fhown,
Being with fame through many nations blown)
Than thofe, which have been dandled in the lap.
Therefore fome thought, that thofe brave Imps were
Here by the Gods, and fed with heavenly fap, [fown
That made them grow. fo high t'all honourable hap.
XXXVII.
The Lady, hearkning to his fenfefull speech,
Found nothing that he faid, unmeet nor geafon,
Having oft feen it tride, as he did teach.
Therefore inclining to his goodly reafon,
Agreeing well both with the place and season,
She gladly did of that fame babe accept,
As of her own by livery and feifin;
And having over it a little wept,
She bore it thence, and ever as her own it kept..
Right glad was Calepine to be fo rid
Of his young charge, whereof he skilled nought:
Ne fhe lefs glad; for fhe fo wifely did,
And with her husband under hand fo wrought, That when that infant unto him the brought, She made him think it furely was his own, And it in goodly thews fo well upbrought, That it became a famous Knight well known, And did right noble deeds, the which elsewhere are shown. XXXIX.
But Calepine, now being left alone
Under the green-woods fide in forry plight,
Withouten arms or steed to ride upon,
Or house to hide his head from heavens fpight,
Albe that Dame, (by all the means fhe might)
Him oft défired home with her to wend;
And offred him (his court'fy to requite)
Both horfe and arms, and whatfo elfe to lend ;
Yet he them all refus'd, though thankt her as a friend.
XL.
And for exceeding grief which inly grew,
That he his Love fo lucklefs now had loft,
On the cold ground, maugre himself he threw
For fell defpight, to be fo forely croft;
And there all night himself in anguish tost;
Vowing that never he in bed again
His limbs would reft, ne lig in ease embost,
Till that his Ladies fight he mote attain,
Or understand, that she in safety did remain.
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