"Not I so happy," answerd then that swaine,
"As thou unhappy, which them thence didst chace,
Whom by no meanes thou canst recall againe;
For, being gone, none can them bring in place,
But whom they of themselves list so to grace."
"Right sory I," saide then sir Calidore,
"That my ill fortune did them hence displace:
But since things passed noue may now restore,
Tell me what were they all, whose lacke thee
grieves so sore."

Tho gan that shepheard thus for to dilate;
"Then wote, thou shepheard, whatsoe'er thou bee,
That all those ladies, which thou sawest late,
Are Venus damzels, all within her fee,
But differing in honour and degree:
They all are Graces which on her depend;
Besides a thousand more which ready bee
Her to adorne, whenso she forth doth wend; [tend:
But those three in the midst, doe chiefe on her at-

"They are the daughters of sky-ruling love,
By him begot of faire Eurynome,
The Oceans daughter, in this pleasant grove,
As he, this way comming from feastful glee
Of Thetis wedding with Aecidee,

In sommers shade himselfe here rested weary.
The first of them hight mylde Euphrosyne,
Next faire Aglaia, last Thalia merry; [cherry!
Sweete goddesses all three, which me in mirth do

"These three on men all gracious gifts bestow,
Which decke the body or adorne the mynde,
To make them lovely or well-favoured show;
As comely carriage, entertainment kynde,
Sweete semblaunt, friendly offices that bynde,
And all the complements of curtesie:
They teach us, how to each degree and kynde
We should ourselves demeane, to low, to hie,
To friends, to foes; which skill men call civility.

"Therefore they alwaies smoothly seeme to smile, That we likewise should mylde and gentle be; And also naked are, that without guile

Or false dissemblaunce all them plaine may see,
Simple and true from covert malice free;
And ecke themselves so in their daunce they bore,
That two of them still froward seem'd to bee,
But one still towards shew'd herselfe afore; [store.
That good should from us goe, then come in greater

"Such were those goddesses which ye did see:
But that fourth mayd, which there amidst them
Who can aread what creature mote she bee, [traced,
Whether a creature, or a goddesse graced
With heavenly gifts from Heven first enraced!
But whatso sure she was, she worthy was
To be the fourth with those three other placed:
Yet was she certes but a countrey lasse;
Yet she all other countrey lasses farre did passe:

"So farre, as doth the daughter of the day
All other lesser lights in light excell;
So farre doth she in beautyfull array
Above all other lasses beare the bell;
Ne lessc in vertue that beseemes her well
Doth she exceede the rest of all her race;
For which the Graces, that here wont to dwell,
Have for more honor brought her to this place,
And graced her so much to be another Grace.

"Another Grace she well deserves to be,
In whom so many graces gathered are,
Excelling much the meane of her degree;
Divine resemblaunce, beauty soveraine rare,
Firme chastity, that spight ne blemish dare!
All which she with such courtesie doth grace,
That all her peres cannot with her compare,
But quite are dimmed when she is in place:
She made me often pipe, and now to pipe apace.

"Sunne of the world, great glory of the sky, That all the Earth doest lighten with thy rayes, Great Gloriana, greatest maiesty!

Pardon thy shepheard, mongst so many layes
As he hath sung of thee in all his dayes,
To make one minime of thy poore handmayd,
And underneath thy feete to place her prayse;
That, when thy glory shall be farre displayd
To future age, of her this mention may be made!"

When thus that shepheard ended had his speach,
Sayd Calidore; "Now sure it yrketh mee,
That to thy blisse I made this luckelesse breach,
As now the author of thy bale to be,
Thus to bereave thy loves deare sight from thee:
But, gentle shepheard, pardon thou my shame,
Who rashly sought that which I mote not see.'
Thus did the courteous knight excuse his blame,
And to recomfort him all comely meanes did frame.
In such discourses they together spent
Long time, as fit occasion forth them led;
With which the knight himselfe did much content,
And with delight his greedy fancy fed
Both of his words, which he with reason red,
And also of the place, whose pleasures rare
With such regard his sences ravished,

That thence he had no will away to fare, [share.
But wisht that with that shepheard he mote dwelling

But that envenimd sting, the which of yore
His poysnous point deepe fixed in his hart
Had left, now gan afresh to rancle sore,
And to renue the rigour of his smart;
Which to recure, no skill of leaches art
Mote him availe, but to returne againe
To his wounds worker, that with lovely dart
Dinting his brest had bred his restlesse paine;
Like as the wounded whale to shore flies from the
maine.

So, taking leave of that same gentle swaine,
He backe returned to his rusticke wonne,
Where his faire Pastorella did remaine :
To whome in sort, as he at first begonne,
He daily did apply himselfe to donne
All dewfull service, voide of thoughts impure;
Ne any paines ne perill did he shonne,
By which he might her to his love allure,
And liking in her yet untamed heart procure.

And evermore the shepheard Coridon,
Whatever thing he did her to aggrate,
Did strive to match with strong contention,
And all his paines did closely emulate;
Whether it were to caroll, as they sate
Keeping their sheepe, or games to exercize,
Or to present her with their labours late;
Through which if any grace chaunst to arize [frize.
To him, the shepheard straight with jealousie did

One day, as they all three together went
To the greene wood to gather strawberies,
There chaunst to them a dangerous accident:
A tigre forth out of the wood did rise,
That with fell clawes full of fierce gourmandize,
And greedy mouth wide-gaping like hell-gate,
Did runne at Pastorell her to surprize;
Whom she beholding, now all desolate,
Gan cry to them aloud to helpe her all too late.

Which Coridon first hearing, ran in hast
To reskue her; but, when he saw the feend,
Through cowherd feare he fled away as fast,
Ne durst abide the daunger of the end;
His life he steemed dearer then his frend:
But Calidore soone comming to her ayde,
When he the beast saw ready now to rend
His loves deare spoile, in which his heart was prayde,
He ran at him enraged, instead of being frayde.

He had no weapon but his shepheards hooke
To serve the vengeaunce of his wrathfull will;
With which so sternely he the monster strooke,
That to the ground astonished he fell;
Whence ere he could recou'r, he did him quell,
And hewing off his head, it presented
Before the feete of the faire Pastorell;
Who, scarcely yet from former feare exempted,
A thousand times him thankt that had her death
prevented.

From that day forth she gan bim to affect,
And daily more her favour to augment;
But Coridon for cowherdize reiect,

Fit to keepe sheepe, unfit for loves content:
The gentle heart scornes base disparagement.
Yet Calidore did not despise him quight,
But usde him friendly for further intent,
That by his fellowship he colour might

Both his estate and love from skill of any wight.

So well he wood her, and so well he wrought her,
With humble service, and with daily sute,
That at the last unto his will he brought her;
Which he so wisely well did prosecute,
That of his love he reapt the timely frute,
And ioyed long in close felicity:

Till Fortune, fraught with malice, blinde and brute,
That envies lovers long prosperity,

Blew up a bitter storme of foule adversity.

It fortuned one day, when Calidore
Was hunting in the woods, as was his trade,
A lawlesse people, Brigants hight of yore,
That never usde to live by plough nor spade,
But fed on spoile and booty, which they made
Upon their neighbours which did nigh them border,
The dwelling of these shepheards did invade;
And spoyld their houses, and themselves did murder,
And drove away their flocks; with other much dis-
order.

Amongst the rest, the which they then did pray,
They spoyld old Melibee of all he had,
And all his people captive led away;
Mongst which this lucklesse mayd away was lad,
Faire Pastorella, sorrowfuli and sad,
Most sorrowfull, most sad, that ever sigh't,
Now made the spoile of theeves and Brigants bad,
Which was the conquest of the gentlest knight
That ever liv'd, and th' onely glory of his might.

With them also was taken Coridon,

And carried captive by those theeves away;
Who in the covert of the night, that none
Mote them descry, nor reskue from their pray,
Unto their dwelling did them close convay:
Their dwelling in a little island was,
Covered with shrubby woods, in which no way
Appeared for people in nor out to pas,
Nor any footing fynde for overgrowen gras:

For underneath the ground their way was made
Through hollow caves, that no man mote discover
For the thicke shrubs, which did them alwaies shade
From view of living wight and covered over;
But darkenesse dred and daily night did hover
Through all the inner parts, wherein they dwelt;
Ne lightned was with window, nor with lover,
But with continuall candle light, which delt
A doubtfull sense of things, not so well seene as felt.

Hither those Brigants brought their present pray,
And kept them with continuall watch and ward;
Meaning, so soone as they convenient may,
For slaves to sell them for no small reward
To merchants, which them kept in bondage hard,
Or sold againe. Now when faire Pastorell
Into this place was brought, and kept with gard
Of griesly theeves, she thought herself in Hell,
Where with such damned fiends she should in dark-
nesse dwell.

But for to tell the dolefull dreriment

And pittifull complaints which there she made,
(Where day and night she nought did but lament
Her wretched life shut up in deadly shade,
And waste her goodly beauty, which did fade
Like to a flowre that feeles no heate of Sunne
Which may her feeble leaves with comfort glade ;)
And what befell her in that theevish wonne,
Will in another canto better be begonne.

CANTO XI.

The theeves fall out for Pastorell,
Whilest Melibee is slain:
Her Calidore from them redeemes,
And bringeth backe againe.

THE ioys of love, if they should ever last
Without affliction or disquietnesse
That worldly chaunces doe amongst them cast,
Would be on Earth too great a blessednesse,
Liker to Heaven then mortall wretchednesse :
Therefore the winged god, to let men weet
That here on Earth is no sure happinesse,
A thousand sowres hath tempred with one sweet,
To make it seeme more deare and dainty, as is meet.

Like as is now befalne to this faire mayd,
Faire Pastorell, of whom is now my song:
Who being now in dreadfull darknesse layd
Amongst those theeves, which her in bondage strong
Detaynd; yet Fortune, not with all this wrong
Contented, greater mischiefe on her threw,
And sorrowes heapt on her in greater throng;
That whoso heares her heavinesse, would rew
And pitty her sad plight, so chang`d from pleasannt

hew.

Whylest thus she in these hellish dens remayned,
Wrapped in wretched cares and hearts unrest,
It so befell, as Fortune had ordayned,
That he which was their capitaine profest,
And had the chiefe commaund of all the rest,
One day, as he did all his prisoners vew,
With lustfull eyes beheld that lovely guest,
Faire Pastorella, whose sad mournefull hew
Like the faire morning clad in misty fog did shew.

At sight whereof his barbarous heart was fired,
And inly burnt with flames most raging whot,
That her alone he for his part desired
Of all the other pray which they had got,
And her in mynde did to himselfe allot
From that day forth he kyndnesse to her showed,
And sought her love by all the meanes he mote;
With looks, with words, with gifts he oft her wowed,
And mixed threats among, and much unto her
vowed.

But all that ever he could doe or say

Her constant mynd could not a whit remove,
Nor draw unto the lure of his lewd lay,
To graunt him favour or afford him love:
Yet ceast he not to sew, and all waies prove,
By which he mote accomplish his request,
Saying and doing all that mote behove;
Ne day nor night he suffred her to rest,

But her all night did watch, and all the day molest.

At last, when him she so impórtune saw,
Fearing least he at length the raines would lend
Unto his lust, and make his will his law,
Sith in his powre she was to foe or friend;
She thought it best, for shadow, to pretend
Some shew of favour, 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 love he to her made, With better tearmes she did him entertaine;

Which gave him hope, and did him halfe perswade,

That he in time her ioyance should obtaine:
But when she saw, through that small favours gaine,
That further then she willing was he prest;
She found no meanes to barre him, but to faine
A sodaine sicknesse which her sore opprest,
And made unfit to serve his lawlesse mindes behest.

By meanes whereof she would not him permit
Once to approach to her in privity,
But onely mongst the rest by her to sit,
Mourning the rigour of her malady,
And seeking all things meete for remedy:
But she resolv'd no remedy to fynde,
Nor better cheare to shew in misery,

Till Fortune would her captive bonds unbynde:
Her sickenesse was not of the body but the myndc.

During which space that she thus sicke did lie,
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,
Arrived in this isle, though bare and blunt,
T' inquire for slaves; where being readie met
By some of these same theeves at th' instant brunt,
Were brought unto their captaine, who was set
By his faire patients side with sorrowfull regret.

To whom they shewed, how those merchants were
Arriv'd in place their bondslaves for to buy ;
And therefore prayd that those same captives 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 slaves should forth be called,
And sold for most advantage not to be forstalled.
Then forth the good old Melibee was brought,
And Coridon with many other moe,

Whom they before in diverse 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 faire shepherdesse,
Which with the rest they tooke not long agoe;
The more t' augment her price through praise of
And gan her forme and feature to expresse,

comlinesse.

To whom the captaine in full angry wize
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 have one silly lasse;
Besides through sicknesse now so wan and weake,
That nothing meet in merchandise to passe:"
So shew'd then her, to prove how pale and weake
she was.

The sight of whom, though now decayd and mard,
And eke but hardly seene by candle-light,
Yet, like a diamond of rich regard,

[light,

In doubtfull shadow of the darkesome night
With starrie beames about her shining bright,
The marchants fixed eyes did so amaze,
That what through wonder, and what through de-
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,
And prises to them placed at their pleasure,
They all refused in regard of her;

Ne ought would buy, however prisd with measure,

They did esteeme, and offred store of gold : [sure, Withouten her, whose worth above all threasure, But then the captaine, fraught with more displeaBad them be still; "his love should not be sold; The rest take if they would; he her to him would hold."

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

Thus, as they words amongst them multiply,
They fali to strokes, the frute of too much talke,
And the mad steele about doth fiercely fly,
Not sparing wight, ne leaving 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
And makes huge havocke; whiles the candle-light
Opt-quenched leaves no skill nor difference of wight-

[stalke,

"In that same conflict (woe is me!) befell
This fatall chaunce, this dolefull accident,
Whose heavy tydings now I have to tell.
First all the captives, which they here had hent,
Were by them slaine by generall consent;
Old Melibee and his good wife withall
These eyes saw die, and dearely did lament:
But, when the lot to Pastorell did fall, [forstall,
Their captaine long withstood, and did her death

"But what could he gainst all them doe alone?
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 have bene dead,
Then here to see all desolate and wast,
Despoyled of those ioyes and iolly head, [lead."
Which with those gentle shepheards here I wont to

When Calidore these ruefull newes had raught,
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 itselfe unto himselfe did threat;
Oft cursing th' Heavens, that so cruell were
To her, whose name he often did repeat;
And wishing oft, that he were present there [nere.
When she was slaine, or had bene to her succour

But after griefe awhile had had his course,
And spent itselfe in mourning, he at last
Began to mitigate his swelling sourse,
And in his mind with better reason cast
How he might save 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 revenge he were too weake, [breake.
Then for to die with her, and his lives threed to

Tho Coridon he prayd, sith he well knew
The readie way unto that theevish wonne,
To wend with him, and be his conduct trew
Unto 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)
Both clad in shepheards weeds agreeably,
And both with shepheards hookes; but Calidore
Had, underneath, him armed privily:
Tho, to the place when they approached nye,
They chaunst, upon 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,
The self-same flocks the which those theeves had
From Melibee and from themselves whyleare; [reft
And certaine of the theeves there by them left,
The which, for want of heards, themselves then kept:
Right well knew Coridon his owne late sheepe,
And, seeing them, for tender pittie wept: [keepe,
But, when he saw the theeves which did them❘
His hart gan fayle, albe he saw them all asleepe.

Whereof right glad they seem'd, and offer made
To hyre them well if they their flockes would keepe:
For they themselves were evill groomes, they sayd,
Unwont 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, whenas towards darksome night it drew,
Unto their hellish dens those theeves them brought;
Where shortly they in great acquaintance grew,
And all the secrets of their entrayles sought:
There did they find, contrárie to their thought,
That Pastorell yet liv'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,
In dead of night, when all the theeves dad rest
After a late forray, and slept full sound,
Sir Calidore him arm'd, as he thought best;
Having of late by diligent inquest
Provided 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 hehind for dread of worse effort.

When to the cave they came, they found it fast:
But Calidore with huge resistlesse might
The dores assayled, and the locks upbrast:
With noyse whereof the theefe awaking light
Unto the entrance ran; where the bold knight
Encountring him with small resistence slew:
The whiles faire Pastorell through great affright
Was almost dead, misdoubting least of new
Some uprore were like that which lately she did vew.

But whenas Calidore was comen in,
And gan aloud for Pastorell to call,
Knowing his voice, although not heard long sin,
She sudden was revived 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.