Yet held her wrathfull hand from vengeance sore,
But drawing nigh, ere he her well beheld;
Is this the faith she said, and said no more,
But turnd her face, and fled away for euermore.
He seeing her depart, arofe vp light,
Right fore agrieued at her sharpe reproofe,
And follow'd fast: but when he came in fight,
He durft not nigh approch, but kept aloofe,
For dread of her displeasures vtmost proose.
And euermore, when he did grace entreat,
And framed fpeaches fit for his behoofe,
Her mortall arrowes, she at him did threat,
And forft him backe with fowle dishonor to retreat.
At laft when long he follow'd had in vaine,
Yet found no ease of griefe, nor hope of grace,
Vnto those woods he turned backe againe,
Full of fad anguish, and in heauy cafe:
And finding there fit folitary place
For wofull wight, chofe out a gloomy glade,
Where hardly eye mote fee bright heauens face,
For moffy trees, which couered all with fhade
And fad melancholy, there he his cabin made.
His wonted warlike weapons all he broke,
And threw away, with vow to vse no more,
Ne thenceforth euer ftrike in battell stroke,
Ne euer word to fpeake to woman more;
But in that wildernesse, of men forlore,
And of the wicked world forgotten quight,
His hard mishap in dolor to deplore,
11. 353-4, (of. . . quight).
And waft his wretched daies in wofull plight;
So on him felfe to wreake his follies owne despight.
And eke his garment, to be thereto meet,
He wilfully did cut and shape anew;
And his faire lockes, that wont with ointment sweet
To be embaulm'd, and sweat out dainty dew,
He let to grow and griefly to concrew,
Vncomb'd, vncurl'd, and careleЛly vnshed ;
That in fhort time his face they ouergrew,
And ouer all his fhoulders did dispred,
That who he whilome was, vneath was to be red.
There he continued in this carefull plight,
Wretchedly wearing out his youthly yeares,
Through wilfull penury confumed quight,
That like a pined ghoft he foone appeares.
For other food then that wilde forreft beares,
Ne other drinke there did he euer taft,
Then running water, tempred with his teares,
The more his weakened body so to wast:
That out of all mens knowledge he was worne at laft./
For on a day, by fortune as it fell,
His owne deare Lord Prince Arthure came that way,
Seeking aduentures, where he mote heare tell;
And as he through the wandring wood did ftray,
Hauing efpide this Cabin far away,
He to it drew, to weet who there did wonne;
Weening therein fome holy Hermit lay,
1. 361, 'd:aw': 1. 376, (by . . . fell).
That did refort of finfull people shonne;
Or else some woodman fhrowded there from fcorching funne.
Arriuing there, he found this wretched man,
Spending his daies in dolour and despaire,
And through long fafting woxen pale and wan,
All ouergrowen with rude and rugged haire;
That albeit his owne deare Squire he were,
Yet he him knew not, ne auiz'd at all,
But like strange wight, whom he had seene no where, Saluting him, gan into fpeach to fall,
And pitty much his plight, that liu'd like outcast thrall.
But to his fpeach he aunswered no whit,
But stood still mute, as if he had beene dum,
Ne figne of fence did shew, ne common wit,
As one with griefe and anguishe ouercum,
And vnto euery thing did aunswere mum :
And euer when the Prince vnto him spake,
He louted lowly, as did him becum,
And humble homage did vnto him make,
Midft forrow shewing ioyous semblance for his fake.
At which his vncouth guife and vfage quaint
The Prince did wonder much, yet could not gheffe
The cause of that his forrowfull constraint;
Yet weend by fecret fignes of manlineffe,
Which/close appeard in that rude brutishnesse,
That he whilome fome gentle fwaine had beene,
Traind vp in feats of armes and knightlinesse ;
Which he obferu'd, by that he him had feene
To weld his naked fword, and try the edges keene.
And eke by that he faw on every tree,
How he the name of one engrauen had,
Which likly was his liefest loue to be,
For whom he now fo forely was beftad;
Which was by him BELPHE B E rightly rad.
Yet who was that Belphebe, he ne wift;
Yet faw he often how he wexed glad,
When he it heard, and how the ground he kift, Wherein it written was, and how himselfe he blift: 420
Tho when he long had marked his demeanor,
And faw that all he said and did, was vaine,
Ne ought mote make him change his wonted tenor,
Ne ought mote ease or mitigate his paine,
He left him there in languor to remaine,
Till time for him fhould remedy prouide,
And him restore to former grace againe.
Which for it is too long here to abide,
I will deferre the end vntill another tide.
The gentle Squire recouers grace,
Sclaunder her guests doth flaine:
Conflambo chafeth Placidas,
And is by Arthure flaine.
Ell faid the wiseman, now prou'd true by this,
Which to this gentle Squire did happen late. That the displeasure of the mighty is
Then death it selfe more dread and desperate.
For naught the fame may calme ne mitigate,
Till time the tempeft doe thereof delay
With fufferaunce foft, which rigour can abate,
And haue the fterne remembrance wypt away
Of bitter thoughts, which deepe therein infixed lay.
Like as it fell to this vnhappy boy,
Whose tender heart the faire Belphebe had,
With one sterne looke so daunted, that no ioy
In all his life, which afterwards he lad,
He euer tasted, but with penaunce fad
And penfiue forrow pind and wore away,
Ne euer laught, ne once fhew'd countenance glad;
1. 10, nought': 1. 14, 'infected' 1611 (bad).
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