Whom well he wist1 to be some enemy, That meant to make advantage of his misery.
Wherefore he staid, till that he nearer drew,
To weet? what issue would thereof betide :
Then, whenas he approachéd nigh in view,
By certain signs he plainly him descried
To be the man that with such scornful pride
Had him abus'd and shaméd yesterday;
Therefore, misdoubting lest he should misguide
His former malice to some new assay,3
He cast to keep himself so safely as he may.
By this the other came in place likewise,
And couching close his spear and all his power,
As bent to some malicious enterprise,
He bade him stand t' abide the bitter stoure4
Of his sore vengeance, or to make avoure5
Of the lewd words and deeds which he had done:
With that ran at him, as he would devour
His life at once; who naught could do but shun
The peril of his pride, or else be over-run.
Yet he him still pursu'd from place to place,
With full intent him cruelly to kill,
And like a wild goat round about did chase,
Flying the fury of his bloody will:
But his best succour and refúge was still
Behind his lady's back; who to him cried,
And called oft with prayers loud and shrill,
As ever he to lady was affied,"
To spare her knight, and rest with reason pacified:
But he the more thereby enragéd was,
And with more eager felness1 him pursu'd;
So that at length, after long weary chase,
Having by chance a close advantage view'd,
He over-raught2 him, having long eschew'd 3
His violence in vain; and with his spear
Struck through his shoulder, that the blood ensu'd
In great abundance, as a well it were,
That forth out of an hill fresh gushing did appear.
Yet ceas'd he not for all that cruel wound,
But chas'd him still for all his lady's cry;
Not satisfied till on the fatal ground
He saw his life pour'd forth dispiteously;
The which was certes in great jeopardy,
Had not a wondrous chance his rescue wrought,
And saved from his cruel villainy :
Such chances oft exceed all human thought!
That in another canto shall to end be brought.
Calepine by a Savage Man
From Turpine rescued is;
And, whilst an Infant from a bear
He saves, his Love doth miss.
LIKE as a ship with dreadful storm long tost,
Having spent all her masts and her groundhold,5
Now far from harbour likely to be lost,
At last some fisher-bark doth near behold,
That giveth comfort to her courage cold;
Such was the state of this most courteous knight,
Being oppressed by that faitour1 bold, That he remained in most per❜lous plight, And his sad lady left in pitiful affright:
Till that, by fortune passing all foresight,
A Savage Man, which in those woods did wonne,2
Drawn with that lady's loud and piteous shright,3 Shriek.
Toward the same incessantly did run
To understand what there was to be done:
There he this most discourteous craven found
As fiercely yet, as when he first begun,
Chasing the gentle Calepine around,
Ne sparing him the more for all his grievous wound.
The Savage Man, that never till this hour
Did taste of pity, neither gentlesse knew,
Seeing his sharp assault and cruel stoure,+
Was much emmovéd at his peril's view,
That even his ruder heart began to rue,
And feel compassion of his evil plight,
Against his foe that did him so pursue;
From whom he meant to free him, if he might,
And him avenge of that so villanous despite.
Yet arms or weapon had he none to fight,
Ne knew the use of warlike instruments,
Save such as sudden rage him lent to smite;
But naked, without needful vestiments
To clad his corpse with meet habiliments,
He caréd not for dint of sword nor spear,
No more than for the stroke of straws or bents: 6 Rushies
For from his mother's womb, which him did bear,
He was invulnerable made by magic lear.7
He stayed not t' advise which way were best
His foe t'assail, or how himself to guard,
But with fierce fury and with force infest1
Upon him ran; who being well prepar'd
His first assault full warily did ward,
And with the push of his sharp-pointed spear
Full on the breast him struck, so strong and hard
That forc'd him back recoil and reel arcar;2
Yet in his body made no wound nor blood appear.
With that the Wild Man more enragéd grew,
Like to a tiger that hath miss'd his prey,
And with mad mood again upon him flew,
Regarding neither spear that might him slay,
Nor his fierce steed that might him much dismay
The savage nation doth all dread despise:
Then on his shield he griple hold did lay,
And held the same so hard, that by no wise
He could him force to loose, or leave his enterprise.
Long did he wrest and wring it to and fro,
And every way did try, but all in vain;
For he would not his greedy gripe forgo,
But haul'd and pull'd with all his might and main,
That from his steed him nigh he drew again:
Who having now no use of his long spear
So nigh at hand, nor force his shield to strain,
Both spear and shield, as things that needless were,
He quite forsook, and fled himself away for fear.
But after him the Wild Man ran apace,
And him pursued with impórtune speed,
For he was swift as any buck in chase;
And, had he not in his extremest need
Been helped through the swiftness of his steed,
He had him overtaken in his flight.
Who, ever as he saw him nigh succeed,
Gan cry aloud with horrible affright,
And shrieked out; a thing uncomely for a knight.
But, when the Savage saw his labour vain
In following of him that fled so fast,
He weary wox, and back return'd again
With speed unto the place, whereas he last
Had left that couple near their utmost cast:1
There he that knight full sorely bleeding found,
And eke the lady fearfully aghast,
Both for the peril of the present stound,2
And also for the sharpness of her rankling wound:
For though she were right glad so rid to be
From that vile losel3 which her late offended;
Yet now no less encumbrance she did see
And peril, by this Savage Man pretended;4
Gainst whom she saw no means to be defended,
By reason that her knight was wounded sore:
Therefore herself she wholly recommended
To God's sole grace, whom she did oft implore
To send her succour, being of all hope forlore.5
But the Wild Man, contráry to her fear,
Came to her creeping like a fawning hound;
And by rude tokens made to her appear
His deep compassion of her doleful stound;
Kissing his hands, and crouching to the ground;
For other language had he none nor speech,
But a soft murmur and confused sound
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