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."

So forth he drew much gold, and toward him it drive.

But the good man, nought tempted with the offer
Of his rich mould, did thrust it farre away,

285

290

And thus bespake: "Sir knight, your bounteous proffer Be farre fro me, to whom ye ill display

That mucky masse, the cause of mens decay,

That mote empaire my peace with daungers dread.
But if ye algates covet to assay

295

This simple sort of life that shepheards lead,

Be it your owne; our rudenesse to your selfe aread."

So there that night Sir Calidore did dwell,
And long while after, whilest him list remaine,
Dayly beholding the faire Pastorell,

300

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:

305

So for to quench his fire he did it more augment.

But she that never had acquainted beene

With such queint usage, fit for queenes and kings,
Ne ever had such knightly service seene,

But, being bred under base shepheards wings,

310

Had ever learned 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 ever devize :

His layes, his loves, his lookes, she did them all despize. 315

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 seen him then would have bethought
On Phrygian Paris by Plexippus brooke,

320

When he the love of fayre Oenone sought,

What time the golden apple was unto him brought.

So being clad, unto the fields he went

325

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;

330

And otherwhiles, for need, he did assay

In his strong hand their rugged teats to hold,

And out of them to presse the milk: love so much could.

Which seeing Coridon, who her likewise

Long time had loved, and hoped her love to gaine, 335
He much was troubled at that straungers guize,

And many gealous thoughts conceived 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 340 Of Pastorell, to all the shepheards there,

That she did love a stranger swayne then him more dere.

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 heart to devoure,

345

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 shewèd signe of rancour or of jarre

350

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,

355

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.

360

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:

365

Thereat frowned Coridon, and his lip closely bit.

But Calidore, of courteous inclination,

370

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

375

And plast on his, he did it soone displace,

And did it put on Coridons in stead:

Then Coridon woxe frollicke, that earst seemed dead.

Another time, whenas they did dispose
To practise games and maisteries to try,

Did chalenge Calidore to wrestling game;

They for their judge did Pastorella chose:
A garland was the meed of victory.
There Coridon, forth stepping openly,

380

For he, through long and perfect industry,
Therein well practisd was, and in the same

385

Thought sure t' avenge his grudge, and worke his foe great shame.

But Calidore he greatly did mistake,

For he was strong and mightily stiffe pight,

That with one fall his necke he almost brake;

390

And had he not upon him fallen light,

His dearest joynt 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,

395

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

400

With this faire mayd, and in her mynde the seeds
Of perfect love did sow, that last forth brought

The fruite of joy and blisse, though long time dearely
bought.

Thus Calidore continued there long time
To winne the love of the faire Pastorell;
Which having got, he used without crime
Or blamefull blot, but menaged so well
That he of all the rest which there did dwell
Was favoured and to her grace commended.
But what straunge fortunes unto him befell,
Ere he attained the point by him intended,
Shall more conveniently in other place be ended.
1594.

1596.

405

410

FROM
AMORETTI

XXXIV

Lyke as a ship, that through the ocean wyde
By conduct of some star doth make her way,
Whenas a storme hath dimd her trusty guyde
Out of her course doth wander far astray;

So I, whose star, that wont with her bright ray
Me to direct, with cloudes is overcast,
Doe wander now, in darknesse and dismay,
Through hidden perils round about me plast:
Yet hope I well that, when this storme is past,
My Helice, the lodestar of my lyfe,
Will shine again, and looke on me at last
With lovely light to cleare my cloudy grief.
Till then I wander carefull, comfortlesse,
In secret sorrow and sad pensivenesse..

XL

Mark when she smiles with amiable cheare,
And tell me whereto can ye lyken it,
When on each eyelid sweetly doe appeare
An hundred Graces as in shade to sit.
Lykest it seemeth, in my simple wit,
Unto the fayre sunshine in somers day,
That, when a dreadfull storme away is flit,

Thrugh the broad world doth spred his goodly ray;
At sight whereof, each bird that sits on spray,
And every beast that to his den was fled,
Comes forth afresh out of their late dismay,
And to the light lift up theyr drouping hed:
So my storme-beaten hart likewise is chearèd
With that sunshine when cloudy looks are cleared.

LII

So oft as homeward I from her depart,

I go lyke one that, having lost the field,

Is prisoner led away with heavy hart,

Despoyld of warlike armes and knowen shield.

So doe I now my selfe a prisoner yeeld
To sorrow and to solitary paine,

From presence of my dearest deare exylde,
Longwhile alone in languor to remaine.

There let no thought of joy, or pleasure vaine,
Dare to approch, that may my solace breed;
But sudden dumps, and drery sad disdayne
Of all worlds gladnesse, more my torment feed.
So I her absens will my penaunce make,
That of her presens I my meed may take.

LXXV

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Agayne I wrote it, with a second hand,

But came the tyde and made my paynes his pray.

5

ΙΟ

5

ΙΟ

"Vayne man," sayd she, "that doest in vaine assay A mortall thing so to immortalize;

5

For I my selve shall lyke to this decay,