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She, her beholding with attentive eye,

That when your pleasure is to deem aright, At length did mark about her purple breast

Ye may redress, and me restore to light.
That precious jewel, which she formerly

Which sorry words, her mighty heart did mate
Had known right well, with colour'd ribbon drest; With mild regard, to see his rueful plight,
Therewith she rose in haste, and her addrest That her in-burning wrath she gan abate,
With ready hand it to have reft away.

And him receiv'd again to former favour's state.
But the swift bird obey'd not her behest,
But swerv'd aside, and there again did stay;
She follow'd her, and thought again it to assay.

And ever when she nigh approach'd, the dove

Then did he set her by that snowy one, Would flit a little forward, and then stay

Like the true saint beside the image set; Till she drew near, and then again remove;

Of both their beauties to make paragon, So tempting her still to pursue the prey,

And trial whether should the honour get. And still from her escaping soft away:

Straightway so soon as both together met, Till that at length, into that forest wide

Th’ enchanted damsel vanish'd into nought:
She drew her far, and led with slow delay.

Her snowy substance melted as with heat,
In th’end, she her unto that place did guide, Nor of that goodly hue remained ought, (wrought.
Whereas that woful man in languor did abide. But th' empty girdle, which about her waist was
He her beholding, at her feet down fell,

As when the daughter of Thaumantes fair,
And kiss'd the ground on which her sole did tread, Hath in a wat’ry cloud displayed wide
And wash'd the same with water, which did well Her goodly bow, which paints the liquid air,
From his moist eyes, and like two streams proceed; That all men wonder at her colour's pride;
Yet spake no word, whereby she might aread All suddenly, ere one can look aside,
What mister wight he was, or what he meant; The glorious picture vanisheth away,
But as one daunted with her presence dread, Nor any token dotb thereof abide :
Only few rueful looks unto her sent,

So did this lady's goodly form decay,
As messengers of his true meaning and intent. And into nothing go, ere one could it bewray.
Yet nathemore his meaning she ared,
But wondered much at his so uncouth case

And by his person's secret seemlihed

Well ween'd, that he had been some man of place,
Before misfortune did his hue deface:

Wherewith, the Soldan all with fury fraught,
That being mov'd with ruth she thus bespake. Swearing, and banning most blasphemously,
Ah! woful man, what heaven's hard disgrace,

Commanded strait his armour to be brought';
Or wrath of cruel wight on thee ywrake,

And mounting strait upon a chariot high,
Or self disliked life, doth thee thus wretched make ? With iron wheels and hooks arm’d dreadfully,

And drawn of cruel steeds, which he had fed
If heaven, then none may it redress or blame, With flesh of men, whom through fell tyranny
Since to his power we all are subject born:

He slaughtered had, and ere they were half dead,
If wrathful wight, then foul rebuke and shame Their bodies to his beasts for provender did spread.
Be theirs, that have so cruel thee forlorn;
But if through inward grief, or wilful scorn

So, forth he came all in a coat of plate,
Of life it be, then better do avise.

Burnish'd with bloody rust; while on the green For, he whose days in wilful woe are worn,

The Briton Prince him ready did await, The grace of his Creator doth despise,

In glittering arms right goodly well beseen, That will not use his gifts for thankless niggardise. That shone as bright as doth the heaven sheen;

And by his stirrup Talus did attend, When so he heard her say, eftsoons he brake Playing his page's part, as he had been His sudden silence, which he long had pent,

Before directed by his lord; to th' end
And sighing inly deep, her thus bespake;

He should his flail to final execution bend.
Then have they all themselves against me bent:
For heaven (first author of my languishment) Thus go they both together to their gear,
Envying my too great felicity,

With like fierce minds, but meanings different:
Did closely with a cruel one consent,

For, the proud Soldan with presumptuous chear, To cloud my days in doleful misery,

And countenance sublime and insolent, And make me loath this life, still longing for to die. Sought only slaughter and avengement:

But the brave Prince for honour and for right,
Nor any but yourself, O dearest dread,

Gainst tortious power and lawless regiment,
Hath done this wrong; to wreak on worthless wight In the behalf of wronged weak did fight:
Your high displeasure, through misdeeming bred : More in his cause's truth he trusted than in might.


Like to the Thracian tyrant, who they say

That one sure stroke he might unto him reach, Unto his horses gave his guests for meat,

Whereby his strength’s essay he might him teach. Till he himself was made their greedy prey, At last, from his victorious shield he drew And torn in pieces by Alcides great ;

The veil, which did his powerful light impeach ; So thought the Soldan in his folly's threat,

And coming full before his horses' view, Either the Prince in pieces to have torn

As they upon him press’d, it plain to them did shew. With his sharp wheels, in his first rage's heat, Or under his fierce horses' feet have borne (scorn. Like lightening flash, that hath the gazer burned, And trampled down in dust his thought's disdained So did the sight thereof their sense dismay,

That back again upon themselves they turned, But the bold child that peril well espying,

And with their rider ran perforce away: If he too rashly to his chariot drew,

Nor could the Soldan them from flying stay, Gave way unto his horse's speedy flying,

With reins, or wonted rule, as well he knew. And their resistless rigour did eschew.

Nought feared they, what he could do or say, Yet, as he passed by, the Pagan threw

But th' only fear that was before their view; A shivering dart with so impetuous force,

From which, like mazed deer, dismayfully they flew. That had he not it shunn'd with heedful view, It had himself transfixed, or his horse, [morse. Fast did they fly, as them their feet could bear, Or made them both one mass withouten more re- High over hills, and lowly over dales,

As they were follow'd of their former fear. Oft drew the Prince unto his chariot nigh,

In vain the Pagan banns, and swears, and rails, In hope some stroke to fasten on him near ;

And back with both his hands unto him hailes But he was mounted in his seat so high,

The resty reins, regarded now no more : And his wing-footed coursers him did bear

He to them calls and speaks, yet nought avails; So fast away, that ere his ready spear

They hear him not, they have forgot his lore, [lore. He could advance, he far was gone and past. But go which way they list, their guide they have forYet still he him did follow every where, And followed was of him likewise full fast:

As when the fiery-mouthed steeds, which drew So long as in his steeds the flaming breath did last. The sun's bright wain to Phaeton's decay,

Soon as they did the monstrous scorpion view, Again, the Pagan threw another dart,

With ugly craples crawling in their way, Of which he had with him abundant store,

The dreadful sight did them so sore affray, On every side of his embattled cart,

That their well knowen courses they forwent; And of all other weapons less or more,

And leading the ever burning lamp astray, Which warlike uses had deviz'd of yore.

This lower world nigh all to ashes brent; The wicked shaft guided through th' airie wide,

And left their scorched path yet in the firmament. By some bad spirit, that it to mischief bore, Staid not, till through his curat it did glide,

Such was the fury of these headstrong steeds,

Soon as the infant's sun-like shield they saw, And made a grisly wound in his enriven side.

That all obedience, both to words and deeds, Much was he grieved with that hapless throe, They quite forgot, and scorn'd all former law; That opened had the well-spring of his blood; Through woods, and rocks, and mountains they did But much the more that to his hateful foe

The iron chariot, and the wheels did tear, (draw He might not come, to wreak his wrathful mood, And toss'd the Paynim, without fear or awe; That made him rave, like to a lion wood;

From side to side they toss'd him here and there, Which being wounded of the huntsman's hand Crying to them in vain, that n'ould his crying hear. Cannot come near him in the covert wood, Where he with boughs hath built his shady stand,

Yet still the Prince pursued him close behind, And fenc'd himself about with many a flaming brand.

Oft making offer him to smite, but found

No easy means according to his mind.
Still when he sought t' approach unto him nigh, At last, they have all overthrown to ground
His chariot wheels about him whirled round, Quite topside turvey, and the Pagan bound
And made him back again as fast to fly;

Amongst the iron hooks and grapples keen,
And eke his steeds, like to an hungry hound, Torn all to rags, and rent with many a wound,
That hunting after game hath carrion found, That no whole piece of him was to be seen,
So cruelly did him pursue and chace,

But scattered all about, and strow'd upon the green. That his good steed, all were he much renown'd For noble courage, and for hardy race,


Like as the cursed son of Theseus, Durst not endure their sight, but fled from place to

That following his chace in dewy morn,

To fly his stepdame's love outrageous,
Thus long they trac'd, and travers’d to and fro, Of his own steeds was all to pieces torn,
Seeking by every way to make some breach: And his fair limbs left in the woods forlorn;
Yet could the Prince not nigh unto him go,

That for his sake Diana did lament,

And all the woody nymphs did wail and mourn : Devis'd to work delight, was gathered there, So was this Soldan rapt and all to rent,

And there by her were poured forth at fill, That of his shape appear'd no little moniment. As if this to adorn, she all the rest did pill. Only his shield and armour, which there lay, Unto this place when as the elfin knight Though nothing whole, but all so bruis'd and broken Approach'd, him seemed that the merry sound He up did take, and with him brought away, Of a shrill pipe he playing heard on hight, That might remain for an eternal token

And many feet fast thumping th' hollow ground, To all, mongst whom this story should be spoken, That through the woods their echo did rebound. How worthily, by heaven's high decree,

He nigher drew, to weet what might it be; Justice that day of wrong herself had wroken; There he a troop of ladies dancing found That all men which that spectacle did see,

Full merrily, and making gladful glee,
By like example might for ever warned be. And in the midst a shepherd piping he did see.

He durst not enter into the open green

For dread of them unwares to be descried, Who now does follow the foul blatant beast, For breaking of their dance, if he were seen ; While Calidore does follow that fair maid,

But in the covert of the wood did bide, Unmindful of his vow and high behest,

Beholding all, yet of them unespied. Which, by the fairy queen, was on him laid, There he did see, that pleased much bis sight, That he should never leave, nor be delay'd

That even he himself his eyes envied, From chacing him, till he had it atchiev'd?

An hundred naked maidens lily white, But now, entrapp'd of love, which him betray'd, All ranged in a ring, and dancing in delight. He mindeth more, how he may be relieved With grace from her, whose love his heart hath sore

All they without were ranged in a ring, engrieved;

And danced round; but in the midst of them

Three other ladies did both dance and sing, That from henceforth he means no more to sue That while the rest them round about did hem, His former guest, so full of toil and pain;

And like a garland did in compass stem: Another guest, another game in view

And in the midst of those same three was placed He hath, the guerdon of his love to gain ;

Another damsel, as a precious gem With whom he minds for ever to remain,

Amidst a ring most richly well enchaced, (graced. And set his rest among the rustic sort,

That with her goodly presence all the rest much Rather than hunt still after shadows vain

Look how the crown, which Ariadne wore
Of courtly favour, fed with light report
Of every blast, and sailing always in the port.

Upon her ivory forehead that same day

That Theseus her unto his bridal bore Nor certes might he greatly blamed be,

(When the bold Centaurs made that bloody fray From so high step, to stoop unto so low.

With the fierce Lapithes which did them dismay) For, who had tasted once (as oft did he)

Being now placed in the firmament, The happy peace, which there doth overflow, Through the bright heavens doth her beams display, And prov'd the perfect pleasures which do grow

And is unto the stars an ornament, Amongst poor hinds, in hills, in woods, in dales, Which round about her move in order excellent: Would never more delight in painted show Of such false bliss, as there is set for stales,

Such was the beauty of this goodly band, T'entrap unwary fools in their eternal bales. Whose sundry parts were here too long to tell:

But she that in the midst of them did stand, For, what hath all that goodly glorious gaze Seem'd all the rest in beauty to excel, Like to one sight, which Calidore did view ? Crown’d with a rosy garland, that right well The glance whereof their dimmed eyes would daze, Did her beseem. And ever, as the crew That never more they should endure the shew About her danc'd, sweet flowers, that far did smell, Of that sunshine, that makes them look askew: And fragrant odours they upon her threw; Nor aught in all that world of beauties rare But most of all, those three did her with gifts endue. (Save only Gloriana's heavenly hue; To which what can compare ?) can it compare ;

Those were the Graces, daughters of delight, The which, as cometh now by course, I will declare.

Handmaids of Venus, which are wont to haunt

Upon this hill, and dance there day and night: One day as he did range the fields abroad,

Those three to men all gifts of grace do grant, While his fạir Pastorella was elsewhere,

And all, that Venus in herself doth vaunt,
He chanc'd to come, far from all people's troad, Is borrowed of them. But that fair one,
Unto a place, whose pleasance did appear

That in the midst was placed paravant,
To pass all others, on the earth which were: Was she to whom that shepherd pip'd alone,
For, all that ever was by nature's skill

That made him pipe so merrily, as never none.


She was to weet that jolly shepherd's lass, As he this way coming from feastful glee
Which piped there unto that merry rout;

Of Thetis wedding with Æacidee,
That jolly shepherd, which there piped, was

In summer's shade himself here rested weary. Poor Colin Clout (who knows not Colin Clout?) The first of them hight mild Euphı rosyne; He pip'd apace, while they him danc'd about. Next fair Aglaia ; last Thalia merry, [cherry. Pipe, jolly shepherd, pipe thou now apace

Sweet goddesses all three which me in mirth do Unto thy love, that made thee low to lout; Thy love is present there with thee in place,

“ These three on men all gracious gifts bestow, Thy love is there advanc'd to be another Grace. Which deck the body or adorn the mind,

To make them lovely or well favoured show: Much wonder'd Calidore at this strange sight, As comely carriage, entertainment kind, Whose like before his eye had never seen:

Sweet semblant, friendly offices that bind, And standing long astonished in spright,

And all the compliments of courtesy: And rapt with pleasance, wist not what to ween; They teach us, how to each degree and kind Whether it were the train of beauty's queen, We should ourselves demean, to low, to high; Or nymphs, or fairies, or enchanted show,

To friends, to foes: which skill men call civility. With which his eyes might have deluded been. Therefore resolving, what it was, to know,

“ Therefore they always smoothly seem to smile, Out of the wood he rose, and toward them did go. That we likewise should mild and gentle be;

And also naked are, that without guile But soon as he appeared to their view,

Or false dissemblance all them plain may see, They vanish'd all away out of his sight,

Simple and true from covert malice free: And clean were gone, which way he never knew; And eke themselves so in their dance they bore, All save the shepherd, who for fell despite

That two of them still forward seem'd to be, Of that displeasure, broke his bagpipe quite, But one still towards shew'd herself afore; [store. And made great moan for that unhappy turn. That good should from us go, then come in greater But Calidore, though no less sorry wight, For that mishap, yet seeing him to mourn, [learn. “Such were those goddesses which ye did see; Drew near, that he the truth of all by him might But that fourth maid, which there amidst them

Who can aread, what creature might she be, (traced, And first him greeting, thus unto him spake; Whether a creature or a goddess graced “ Hail, jolly shepherd! which thy joyous days With heavenly gifts from heaven first enraced ? Here leadest in this goodly merry-make,

But whatso'er she was, she worthy was Frequented of these gentle nymphs always, To be the fourth, with those three other placed: Which to thee flock, to hear thy lovely lays; Yet was she certes but a country lass, Tell me what might these dainty damsels be, Yet she all other country lasses far did pass. Which here with thee do make their pleasant plays? Right happy thou, that mayst them freely see; “ So far as doth the daughter of the day, But why, when I them saw, fled they away from me?” All other lesser lights in light excel,

So far doth she in beautiful array, “Not I so happy," answered then that swain, Above all other lasses bear the bell : “As thou unhappy, which them thence didst chace, Nor less in virtue that beseems her well, Whom by no means thou canst recall again. Doth she exceed the rest of all her race; For, being gone, none can them bring in place, For which the Graces that here wont to dwell, But whom they of themselves list so to grace.” Have for more honour brought her to this place, “Right sorry I,” said then Sir Calidore,

And graced her so much to be another Grace. " That my ill fortune did them hence displace. But since things passed none may now restore,

“ Another Grace she well deserves to be, Tell me what were they all, whose lack thee grieves In whom so many graces gathered are,

[so sore?" Excelling much the mean of her degree; Then gan that shepherd thus for to dilate ;

Divine resemblance, beauty sovereign rare, " Then wot thou, shepherd, whatsoe'er thou be, Firm chastity, that spite nor blemish dare; That all those ladies, which thou sawest late, All which she with such courtesy doth grace, Are Venus' damsels, all within her fee,

That all her peers cannot with her compare, But differing in honour and degree;

But quite are dimmed, when she is in place. They all are Graces which on her depend,

She made me often pipe, and now to pipe apace. Besides a thousand more, which ready be Her to adorn, whenso she forth doth wend:

“Sun of the world, great glory of the sky, But these three in the midst do chief on her attend. That all the earth dost lighten with thy rays,

Great Gloriana, greatest Majesty, “ They are the daughters of sky-ruling Jove, Pardon thy shepherd ʼmongst so many lays, By him begot of fair Eurynome,

As he hath sung of thee in all his days, The Ocean's daughter, in this pleasant grove,

To make one minime of thy poor handmaid,


And underneath thy feet to place her praise ; Keeping your beasts in the budded brooms;
That when thy glory shall be far display'd

And when the shining sun laugheth once,
To future age, of her this mention may be made." You deemen the spring is come at once:

Tho gin you, fond flies! the cold to scorn, When thus that shepherd ended had his speech,

And, crowing in pipes made of green corn, Said Calidore, “Now sure it irketh me,

You thinken to be lords of the year; 'That to thy bliss I made this luckless breach,

But eft when ye count you freed from fear, As now the author of thy bale to be,

Comes the breme winter with chamfred brows, Thus to bereave thy love's dear sight from thee:

Full of wrinkles and frosty furrows, But, gentle shepherd, pardon thou my shame,

Drearily shooting his stormy dart, Who rashly sought that which I might not see.”

Which cruddles the blood and pricks the heart: Thus did the courteous knight excuse his blame,

Then is your careless courage accoyd, And to recomfort him all comely means did frame.

Your careful herds with cold be annoyed: In such discourses they together spent

Then pay you the price of your surquedry, Long time, as fit occasion forth them led;

With weeping, and wailing, and misery. With which the knight himself did much content,

Cuddy. Ah, foolish old man! I scorn thy skill, And with delight his greedy fancy fed,

That wouldst me my springing youth to spill; Both of his words, which he with reason red;

I deem thy brain emperish'd be And also of the place, whose pleasures rare

Through rusty eld, that hath rotted thee; With such regard his senses ravished,

Or siker thy head very totty is, That thence he had no will away to fare, [ing share.

So on thy corb shoulder it leans amiss.
But wish'd that with that shepherd he might dwell-

Now thyself hath lost both lop and top,
Als my budding branch thou wouldest crop;
But were thy years green, as now been mine,

To other delights they would incline:

Tho wouldest thou learn to carol of love, (FROM THE SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR.)

And hery with hymus thy lass's glove; Cuddy. Ah, for pity! will rank winter's rage Tho wouldest thou pipe of Phillis' praise, These bitter blasts never 'gin t' assuage?

But Phillis is mine for many days: The keen cold blows through my beaten hide,

I won her with a girdle of gelt, All as I were through the body gride:

Emboss'd with bugle about the belt; My ragged ronts all shiver and shake,

Such an one shepherds would make full fain, As done high towers in an earthquake:

Such an one would make thee young again. They wont in the wind wag their wriggle tails Thenot. Thou art a son of thy love to bost; Peark as a peacock; but now it avails.

All that is lent to love will be lost. Thenot. Leudly complainest, thou lazy lad,

Cuddy. Seest how brag yond bullock bears, Of winter's wrack for making thee sad?

So smirk, so smooth, his pricked ears ? Must not the world wend in his common course,

His horns been as brade as rainbow bent, From good to bad, and from bad to worse,

His dewlap as lythe as lass of Kent? From worse unto that is worst of all,

See how he venteth into the wind, And then return to his former fall ?

Weenest of love is not his mind ? Who will not suffer the stormy time,

Seemeth thy flock thy counsel can, Where will he live till the lusty prime?

So lustless been they, so weak, so wan; Self have I worn out thrice thirty years,

Clothed with cold, and hoary with frost, Some in much joy, many in many tears,

Thy flock's father his courage hath lost. Yet never complained of cold nor heat,

Thy ewes that wont to have blown bags, Of summer's flame, nor of winter's threat,

Like wailful widows hanging their crags ; Ne never was to Fortune foe-man,

The rather lambs been starv'd with cold, But gently took that ungently came ;

All for their master is lustless and old. And ever my flock was my chief care,

Thenot. Cuddy, I wot thou kenst little good, Winter or summer they mought well fare.

So vainly to advance thy headless hood; Cuddy. No marvel, Thenot, if thou can bear For youth is a bubble blown up with breath, Chearfully the winter's wrathful chear,

Whose wit is weakness, whose wage is death; For age and winter accord full nigh,

Whose way is wilderness, whose inn penaunce, This chill, that cold; this crooked, that wry; And stoop gallant age, the host of grievaunce. And as the low'ring weather looks down,

But shall I tell thee a tale of truth So seemest thou like Good Friday to frown;

Which I cond of Tityrus in my youth, But my flow'ring youth is foe to frost,

Keeping his sheep on the hills of Kent ? My ship unwont in storms to be tost.

Cuddy. To nought more, Thenot, my mind is bent Thenot. The sovereign of seas he blames in vain, Than to hear novels of his devise; That once sea-beat will to sea again:

They been so well thewed, and so wise, So loytrin glive you little heard-grooms,

What ever that good old man bespake.

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