With that he thrusts into the thickest throng; And, even as his right hand adowne descends, He him preventing lays on earth along, And sacrifizeth to th' infernall feends: Then to the rest his wrathfull hand he bends; Of whom he makes such havocke and such hew, That swar.nes of damned soules to Hell he sends : The rest, that scape his sword and death eschew, Fly like a flocke of doves before a faulcons vew.
From them returning to that ladie backe, Whom by the altar he doth sitting find
Yet fearing death, and next to death the lacke Of clothes to cover what she ought by kind; He first her hands beginneth to unbind, And then to question of her present woe; And afterwards to cheare with speaches kind: But she, for nought that he could say or doe,
One word durst speake, or answere him a whit thereto.
So inward shame of her uncomely case She did conceive, through care of womanhood, That though the night did cover her disgrace, Yet she in so unwomanly a mood
Would not bewray the state in which she stood: So all that night to him unknown she past: But day, that doth discover bad and good, Ensewing, made her knowen to him at last: The end whereof ile keepe untill another cast.
Calidore hostes with Melibee, And loves fayre Pastorell: Coridon envies him, yet he,
For ill, rewards him well.
Now turne againe my teme, thou iolly swayne, Backe to the furrow which I lately left;
I lately left a furrow one or twayne Unplough'd, the which my coulter had not cleft; Yet seem'd the soyle both fayre and frutefull eft, As I it past; that were too great a shame, That so rich frute should be from us bereft; Besides the great dishonour and defame,
Which should befall to Calidores immortall name.
Great travell hath the gentle Calidore And toyle endured, sith I left him last Sewing the Blatant Beast; which I forbore To finish then, for other present hast. Full many pathes and perils he hath past, Through hils, through dales, through forests, and
In that same quest which fortune on him cast, Which he atchieved to his owne great gaines, Reaping eternall glorie of his restlesse paines.
So sharply he the monster did pursew, That day nor night he suffred him to rest, Ne rested he himselfe (but natures dew) For dread of daunger not to be redrest, If he for slouth forslackt so famous quest. Him first from court he to the citties coursed, And from the citties to the townes him prest, And from the townes into the countrie forsed,
From thence into the open fields he fled, Whereas the heardes were keeping of their neat, And shepheards singing, to their flockes that fed, Layes of sweet love and youthes delightfull heat: Him thether eke for all his fearefull threat He followed fast, and chaced him so nie, That to the folds, where sheepe at night doe seat, And to the litle cots, where shepherds lie In winters wrathfull time, he forced him to flie.
There on a day, as he pursew'd the chace, He chaunst to spy a sort of shepheard groomes Playing on pypes and caroling apace,
The whyles their beasts there in the budded broomes Beside them fed, and nipt the tender bloomes; For other worldly wealth they cared nought: To whom sir Calidore yet sweating comes, And them to tell him courteously besought, If such a beast they saw, which he had thether brought.
They answer'd him that no such beast they saw, Nor any wicked feend that mote offend Their happie flockes, nor daunger to them draw; But if that such there were (as none they kend) They prayd high God them farre from them to send: Then one of them him seeing so to sweat, After his rusticke wise, that well he weend, Offred him drinke to quench his thirstie heat, And, if he hungry were, him offred eke to eat.
The knight was nothing nice, where was no nced, And tooke their gentle offer: so adowne They prayd him sit, and gave him for to feed Such homely what as serves the simple clowne, That doth despise the dainties of the towne: Tho, having fed his fill, he there besyde Saw a faire damzell, which did weare a crowne Of sundry flowres with silken ribbands tyde, Yclad in home-made greene that her owne hands had dyde.
Upon a litle hillocke she was placed Higher then all the rest, and round about Environ'd with a girland, goodly graced, Of lovely lasses; and them all without The lustie shepheard swaynes sate in a rout, The which did pype and sing her prayses dew, And oft reioyce, and oft for wonder shout, As if some miracle of heavenly hew
Were downe to them descended in that earthly vew.
And soothly sure she was full fayre of face, And perfectly well shapt in every lim, Which she did more augment with modest grace And comely carriage of her count'nance trim, That all the rest like lesser lamps did dim: Who, her admiring as some heavenly wight, Did for their soveraine goddesse her esteeme, And, caroling her name both day and night, The fayrest Pastorella her by name did hight. Ne was there heard, ne was there shepheards swayne, But her did honour; and eke many a one Burnt in her love, and with sweet pleasing payne Full many a night for her did sigh and grone: But most of all the shepheard Coridon For her did languish, and his deare life spend; Yet neither she for him nor other none
And from the country back to private farmes he Did care a whit, ne any liking lend:
Though meane her lot, yet higher did her mind
Her whyles sir Calidore there vewed well,
And markt her rare demeanure, which him seemed So farre the meane of shepheards to excell, As that he in his mind her worthy deemed To be a princes paragone esteemed, He was unwares surprisd in subtile bands Of the blynd boy; ne thence could be redeemed By any skill out of his cruell hands;
[stands. Caught like the bird which gazing still on others
So stood he still long gazing thereupon, Ne any will had thence to move away, Although his quest were farre afore him gon: But after he had fed, yet did he stay And sate there still, untill the flying day Was farre forth spent, discoursing diversly Of sundry things, as fell, to worke delay; And evermore his speach he did apply To th' heards, but meant them to the damzels fan-
By this the moystie Night approching fast Her deawy humour gan on th' earth to shed, That warn'd the shepheards to their homes to hast Their tender flocks, now being fully fed, For feare of wetting them before their bed: Then came to them a good old aged syre, Whose silver lockes bedeckt his beard and hed, With shepheards hooke in hand, and fit attyre, That wil'd the damzell rise; the day did now expyre.
He was to weet, by common voice, esteemed
The father of the fayrest Pastorell,
And of herselfe in very deede so deemed;
Yet was not so; but, as old stories tell, Found her by fortune, which to him befell, In th' open fields an infant left alone; And, taking up, brought home and noursed well As his owne chyld; for other he had none; That she in tract of time accompted was his owne.
She at his bidding meekely did arise, And streight unto her litle flocke did fare: Then all the rest about her rose likewise, And each his sundrie sheepe with severall care Gathered together, and them homeward bare: Whylest everie one with helping hands did strive Amongst themselves, and did their labours share, To helpe faire Pastorella home to drive
Tho when they had their hunger slaked well, And the fayre mayd the table ta'ne away; The gentle knight, as he that did excell In courtesie and well could doe and say, For so great kindnesse as he found that day Gan greatly thanke his host and his good wife: And, drawing thence his speach another way, Gan highly to commend the happie life [strife. Which shepheards lead, without debate or bitter
"How much," sayd he, "more happie is the state In which ye, father, here doe dwell at ease, Leading a life so free and fortunate From all the tempests of these worldly seas, Which tosse the rest in daungerous disease; Where warres, and wreckes, and wicked enmitie Doe them afflict, which no man can appease! That certes I your happinesse envie, And wish my lot were plast in such felicitie!"
"Surely, my sonne," then answer'd he againe, "If happie; then it is in this intent, That having small yet doe I not complaine Of want, ne wish for more it to augment, But doe myselfe, with that I have, content; So taught of nature, which doth litle need Of forreine helpes to lifes due nourishment: The fields my food, my flocke my rayment breed; No better doe I weare, no better doe I feed.
"Therefore I doe not any one envy, Nor am envyde of any one therefore;
They, that have much, feare much to loose thereby, And store of cares doth follow riches store. The litle that I have growes dayly more Without my care, but onely to attend it; My lambes doe every yeare increase their score, And my flockes father daily doth amend it. What have I, but to praise th' Almighty that doth send it!
"To them, that list, the worlds gay showes I leave, And to great ones such follies doe forgive; Which oft through pride do their owne perill weave, And through ambition downe themselves doe drive To sad decay, that might contented live. Me no such cares nor combrous thoughts offend, Ne once my minds unmoved quiet grieve; But all the night in silver sleepe I spend,
Her fleecie flocke; but Coridon most helpe did give. And all the day, to what I list, I doe attend.
But Melibee (so hight that good old man)
Now seeing Calidore left all alone,
And night arrived hard at hand, began Him to invite unto his simple home;
Which though it were a cottage clad with lome, And all things therein meane, yet better so
To lodge then in the salvage fields to rome. The knight full gladly soone agreed thereto,
"Sometimes I hunt the fox, the vowed foe Unto my lambes, and him dislodge away; Sometime the fawne I practise from the doe, Or from the goat her kidde, how to convay; Another while I baytes and nets display The birds to catch or fishes to beguyle; And, when I wearie am, I downe doe lay My limbes in every shade to rest from toyle;
Being his harts owne wish; and home with him did And drinke of every brooke, when thirst my throte
There he was welcom'd of that honest syre And of his aged beldame homely well; Who him besought himselfe to disattyre, And rest himselfe, till supper time befell; By which home came the fayrest Pastorell, After her flocke she in their fold had tyde: And, supper readie dight, they to it fell With small adoe, and nature satisfyde, The which doth litle crave contented to abyde.
"The time was once, in my first prime of yeares, When pride of youth forth pricked my desire, That I disdain'd amongst mine equall peares To follow sheepe and shepheards base attire; For further fortune then I would inquire: And, leaving home, to roiall court I sought, Where I did sell myselfe for yearely hire, And in the princes gardin daily wrought: There I beheld such vainenesse as I never thought.
"It is the mynd, that maketh good or ill, That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poore: For some, that hath abundance at his will, Hath not enough, but wants in greatest store; And other, that hath litle, asks no more, But in that litle is both rich and wise; For wisedome is most riches: fooles therefore They are, which fortunes doe by vowes devize; Sith each unto himselfe his life may fortunize."
"Since then in each mans self," said Calidore, "It is to fashion his owne lyfes estate, Give leave awhyle, good father, in this shore To rest my barcke, which hath bene beaten late With stormes of fortune and tempestuous fate. In seas of troubles and of toylesome paine; That, whether quite from them for to retrate I shall resolve or backe to turne againe,
I may here with yourselfe some small repose obtaine.
"Not that the burden of so bold a guest Shall chargefull be, or chaunge to you at all; For your meane food shall be my daily feast, And this your cabin both my bowre and hall: Besides, for recompence hereof, I shall You well reward, and golden guerdon give, That may perhaps you better much withall, And in this quiet make you safer live." [drive. So forth he drew much gold, and toward him it But the good man, nought tempted with the offer Of his rich mould, did thrust it farre away, And thus bespake; "Sir Knight, your bounteous Be farre fro me, to whom ye ill display [proffer That mucky masse, the cause of mens decay, That mote empaire my peace with daungers dread: But, if ye algates covet to assay
This simple sort of life that shepheards lead, Be it your owne: our rudenesse to yourselfe aread."
So there that night sir Calidore did dwell, And long while after, whilest him list remaine, Daily beholding the faire Pastorell,
And feeding on the bayt of his owne bane: During which time he did her entertaine With all kind courtesies he could invent; And every day, her companie to gaine, When to the field she went, he with her went: So for to quench his fire he did it more augment.
But she that never had acquainted beene With such quient usage, fit for queens and kings, Ne ever had such knightly service seene; But, being bred under base shepheards wings, Had ever learn'd to love the lowly things; Did litle whit regard his courteous guize, But cared more for Colins carolings
Then all that he could doe, or e'er devize; [spize. His layes, his loves, his lookes, she did them all de-
Which Calidore perceiving, thought it best To chaunge the manner of his loftie looke; And doffing his bright armes himselfe addrest In shepheards weed; and in his hand he tooke, Instead of steele-head speare, a shepheards hooke; That who had seene him then, would have bethought On Phrygian Paris by Plexippus brooke, When he the love of fayre Benone sought, What time the golden apple was unto him brought.
So being clad unto the fields he went With the faire Pastorella every day, And kept her sheepe with diligent attent, Watching to drive the ravenous wolfe away, The whylest at pleasure she mote sport and play; And every evening helping them to fold: And otherwhiles, for need, he did assay In his strong hand their rugged teats to hold, And out of them to presse the milke; love so much could.
Which seeing Corridon, who her likewise Long time had lov'd, and hop'd her love to gaine, He much was troubled at that straungers guize, And many gealous thoughts conceiv'd in vaine, That this of all his labour and long paine Should reap the harvest ere it ripened were; That made him scoule, and pout, and oft complaine Of Pastorell to all the shepheards there, [dere. That she did love a stranger swayne then him more
And ever, when he came in companie Where Calidore was present, he would loure And byte his lip, and even for gealousie Was readie oft his owne hart to devoure, Impatient of any paramoure:
Who on the other side did seeme so farre From malicing, or grudging his good houre, That, all he could, he graced him with her, Ne ever shewed signe of rancour or of iarre.
And oft, when Coridon unto her brought Or litle sparrowes stolen from their nest, Or wanton squirrels in the woods farre sought, Or other daintie thing for her addrest,
He would commend his guift, and make the best: Yet she no whit his presents did regard, Ne him could find to fancie in her brest : This new-come shepheard had his market mard. Old love is litle worth when new is more prefard.
One day, whenas the shepheard swaynes together Were met to make their sports and merrie glee, As they are wont in faire sunshynie weather, The whiles their flockes in shadowes shrouded bee; They fell to daunce: then did they all agree That Colin Clout should pipe, as one most fit; And Calidore should lead the ring, as hee That most in Pastorellaes grace did sit : Thereat frown'd Coridon, and his lip closely bit.
But Calidore, of courteous inclination, Tooke Coridon and set him in his place, That he should lead the daunce, as was his fashion; For Coridon could daunce, and trimly trace; And whenas Pastorella, him to grace,
Her flowry garlond tooke from her owne head, And plast on his, he did it soone displace, And did it put on Coridons instead:
That from henceforth he meanes no more to sew Another quest, another game in vew His former quest, so full of toile and paine;
He hath, the guerdon of his love to gaine; With whom he myndes for ever to remaine, And set his rest amongst the rusticke sort, Rather then hunt still after shadowes vaine Of courtly favour fed with light report
Then Coridon woxe frollicke, that earst seemed dead. Of every blast, and sayling alwaies in the port.
Another time, whenas they did dispose To practise games and maisteries to try, They for their judge did Pastorella chose; A garland was the meed of victory : There Coridon, forth stepping, openly Did chalenge Calidore to wrestling game; For he, through long and perfect industry, Therein well practisd was, and in the same
Ne certes mote he greatly blamed be From so high step to stoupe unto so low; For who had tasted once, as oft did he, The happy peace which there doth overflow, And prov'd the perfect pleasures which doe grow Amongst poore hyndes, in hils, in woods, in dales; Would never more delight in painted show
Thought sure t' avenge his grudge, and worke his Of such false blisse, as there is set for stales
But Calidore he greatly did mistake; For he was strong and mightily stiffe pight, That with one fall his necke he almost brake; And, had he not upon him fallen light, His dearest ioynt he sure had broken quight. Then was the oaken crowne by Pastorell Given to Calidore as his due right; But he, that did in courtesie excell, Gave it to Coridon, and said he wonne it well.
Thus did the gentle knight himselfe abeare Amongst that rusticke rout in all his deeds, That even they, the which his rivals were, Could not maligne him, but commend him needs: For courtesie amongst the rudest breeds Good will and favour: so it surely wrought With this faire mayd, and in her mynde the seeds Of perfect love did sow, that last forth brought The fruite of ioy and blisse, though long time dearely bought.
T' entrap unwary fooles in their eternall bales.
For what bath all that goodly glorious gaze Like to one sight which Calidore did vew ? The glaunce whereof their dimmed eies would daze, That never more they should endure the shew Of that shunne-shine, that makes them looke askew: Ne ought, in all that world of beauties rare, (Save onely Glorianaes heavenly hew, To which what can compare?) can it compare; The which, as commeth now by course, I will de- clare.
One day, as he did raunge the fields abroad, Whilest his faire Pastorella was elsewhere, He chaunst to come, far from all peoples troad, Unto a place, whose pleasaunce did appere To passe all others on the Earth which were: For all that ever was by Natures skill Deviz'd'to worke delight was gathered there; And there by her were poured forth at fill, As if, this to adorne, she all the rest did pill.
It was an hill plaste in an open plaine, That round about was bordered with a wood Of matchlesse hight, that seem'd th' earth to dis- In which all trees of honour stately stood, [daine; And did all winter as in sommer bud, Spredding pavilions for the birds to bowre, Which in their lower braunches sung aloud; And in their tops the soring hauke did towre, Sitting like king of fowles in maiesty and powre:
And at the foote thereof a gentle flud His silver waves did softly tumble downe, Unmard with ragged mosse or filthy mud; Ne mote wylde beastes, ne mote the ruder clowne, Thereto approch; ne filth mote therein drowne: But nymphes and Faeries by the bancks did sit In the woods shade which did the waters crowne, Keeping all noysome things away from it, And to the waters fall tuning their accents fit.
And on the top thereof a spacious plaine Did spred itselfe, to serve to all delight,
Looke! how the crowne, which Ariadne wore Upon her yvory forehead that same day That Theseus her unto his bridale bore, When the bold Centaures made that bloudy fray With the fierce Lapithes which did them dismay; Being now placed in the firmament, Through the bright Heaven doth her beams display, And is unto the starres an ornament,
Which round about her move in order excellent.
Such was the beauty of this goodly band, Whose sundry parts were here too long to tell : But she, that in the midst of them did stand, Seem'd all the rest in beauty to excell, Crownd with a rosie girlond that right well Did her beseeme: and ever, as the crew About her daunst, sweet flowres that far did smell And fragrant odours they uppon her threw; [dew. But, most of all, those three did her with gifts en-
Those were the Graces, daughters of delight, Handmaides of Venus, which are wont to haunt
Either to daunce, when they to daunce would faine, Uppon this hill, and daunce there day and night: Or else to course-about their bases light;
Ne ought there wanted, which for pleasure might Desired be, or thence to banish bale: So pleasauntly the hill with equall hight Did seeme to overlooke the lowly vale; Therefore it rightly cleeped was Mount Acidale.
They say that Venus, when she did dispose Herselfe to pleasaunce, used to resort Unto this place, and therein to repose And rest herselfe as in a gladsome port, Or with the Graces there to play and sport; That even her owne Cytheron, though in it She used most to keepe her royall court And in her soveraine majesty to sit,
She in regard hereof refusde and thought unfit.
Unto this place whenas the Elfin knight Approcht, him seemed that the merry sound Of a shrill pipe he playing heard on hight, And many feete fast thumping th' hollow ground, That through the woods their eccho did rebound. He nigher drew, to weete what mote it be: There he a troupe of ladies dauncing found Full merrily, and making gladfull glee, And in the midst a shepheard piping he did see.
He durst not enter into th' open greene, For dread of them unwares to be descryde, For breaking of their daunce, if he were seene; But in the covert of the wood did byde, Beholding all, yet of them unespyde: There he did see, that pleased much his sight, That even he himselfe his eyes envyde, An hundred naked maidens lilly white All raunged in a ring and dauncing in delight.
All they without were raunged in a ring, And daunced round; but in the midst of them Three other ladies did both daunce and sing, The whilest the rest them round about did hemme, And like a girlond did in compasse stemme: And in the middest of those same three was placed Another damzell, as a precious gemme Amidst a ring most richly well enchaced,
Those three to men all gifts of grace do graunt; And all, that Venus in herself doth vaunt, Is borrowed of them: but that faire one, That in the midst was placed paravaunt, Was she to whom that shepheard pypt alone; That made him pipe so merrily, as never none.
She was, to weete, that iolly shepheards lasse, Which piped there unto that merry rout; That iolly shepheard, which there piped, was Poor Colin Clout, (who knows not Colin Clout?) He pypt apace, whilest they him daunst about. Pype, iolly shepheard, pype thou now apace Unto thy love that made thee low to lout; Thy love is present there with thee in place; Thy love is there advaunst to be another Grace.
Much wondred Calidore at this straunge sight, Whose like before his eye had never seene; And standing long astonished in spright, And rapt with pleasaunce, wist not what to weene; Whether it were the traine of beauties queene, Or nymphes, or Faeries, or enchaunted show, With which his eyes mote have deluded beene. Therefore, resolving what it was to know, Out of the wood he rose, and toward them did go.
But, soone as he appeared to their vew, They vanisht all away out of his sight, And cleane were gone, which way he never knew; All save the shepheard, who, for fell despight Of that displeasure, broke his bag-pipe quight, And made great mone for that unhappy turne: But Calidore, though no lesse sory wight For that mishap, yet seeing him to mourne, Drew neare, that he the truth of all by him mote learne :
And, first him greeting, thus unto him spake; "Haile, iolly shepheard, which thy ioyous dayes Here leadest in this goodly merry-make, Frequented of these gentle nymphes alwayes, Which to thee flocke to heare thy lovely layes! Tell me what mote these dainty damzelsbe, [playes: Which here with thee doe make their pleasant
That with her goodly presence all the rest much Right happy thou, that mayest them freely see!
But why, when I them saw, fled they away from me?'
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