OF SIR CALIDORE AND PASTORELLA
Now must be told what befell Sir Calidore in his quest. For many days he
pursued unceasingly the Blatant Beast. Over hills and through valleys,
through forests and across plains, he made his way, and wearied not. The
monster he suffered not to rest, nor did he rest himself, save only when
Nature commanded; for he feared disgrace, if haply should he, for reason
of sloth, forego his task, and the monster should escape. Therefore he
went from Court to city, and from city to country, and in the country
nothing would content him but he must search in every farm. On a day
while he thus urged the pursuit, he came on a company of shepherds who
were playing on pipes and singing country ballads, the while their
flocks fed near them among the broom bushes with their flowers of gold.
When he came near to them he inquired of them whether they had chanced
to see such a beast as he sought.
They answered him: “We have seen none such in this country, nor have we
anything that threatens harm to us or to our flocks. And we pray to the
good God that He will keep such creatures far from us.” And one of them,
perceiving that the knight was hot and weary, offered him drink, and if
he chanced to be hungry, something that he might eat. This courteous
offer he gladly accepted, and sat him down, well content with such
simple fare as suits the dweller in the country. When he had ended his
meal he saw a fair damsel who wore a crown of flowers tied with ribbons
of silk, being clad in a gown of home-made green which she had worked
with her own hands. She sat on a little hillock in the middle of the
company, with company of lovely maids about her, and round these again
was a ring of shepherds, piping and singing the praises of their queen,
for indeed she did shine as a queen in the midst of her subjects. Fair
of face she was and of just proportions, and commended her beauty to all
beholders by the modesty of her carriage. There was not one in the place
but honoured, and not a few sighed for her in love: but she had no
liking for anyone.
Greatly did Sir Calidore admire both her beauty and her carriage, for
they seemed to him to far excel the shepherd’s estate. “Surely,” he said
to himself, “this may be a princess who thus disguises her high
condition.” And even while he thought the thought in his heart, Love
took him unawares. So he sat musing, and, for a while, so taken was his
heart with this new thought, forgot the chase.
And now the evening was come and it behoved the shepherds to fold their
flocks. So there came an aged sire, Melibæus by name, who was commonly
reputed to be the father of the fair maiden—Pastorella was her name. So
indeed it was believed, but, in very truth, he had found her as an
infant lying in an open field, and taking her home, had brought her up
as his child, for child of his very own he had none. The old man said,
“Night falls, and we must fold the flocks.” Nor was there any want of
helpers to the fair Pastorella. Many were eager to manage her sheep, and
none more eager than Corydon.
Then Melibæus, seeing how Sir Calidore sat alone, seeming to have no
place of abode, and that night was now near at hand, said to him: “Fair
sir, I have but a humble cottage; yet is this a better lodging than the
bare field; I pray you to take up your abode with me this night.” To
which Sir Calidore gladly agreed, for indeed there was nothing that he
more desired.
A hearty welcome did the old man and his wife accord to the knight.
Shortly after, the fair Pastorella came back from folding her flock, and
they all sat down to sup in high content, and had much pleasant talk
concerning the shepherd’s life, the delights of which old Melibæus set
forth. “Let those who will seek after honour and wealth and the good
things of this world: I am content with what I have. My nights I spend
in quiet sleep, my days in honest toil. I take good care that the fox
shall not harm my lambs; I catch birds in snares, and fishes with hook
and net. When I am weary, I rest my limbs under the green tree; when I
am thirsty, I drink of the brook. Time was when I was not content with
these simple things, but must raise myself above my fellows, and seek
fortune elsewhere. So I left my home and betook myself to the King’s
Court, and worked for hire. But I perceived that in this life there was
vanity and discontent; after ten years, therefore, had passed, I came
back to my home and to peace, and I have learnt to love it daily more
and more.” While the good man talked, the knight was well content to
listen. Much he liked to hear such speech, but more to look at the fair
Pastorella.
After a while he said to the old man, “Good father, I would gladly rest
a while in this peaceful place. The ship of my life has of late been
greatly tossed by tempestuous winds and in stormy seas. Let it therefore
find haven here, and I meanwhile will meditate what course I shall
follow for the time to come. But I would not that my entertainment
should be a burden to you. Your simple fare and such lodging as you can
give content me well; but for these you should have fair guerdon.” So
saying he drew from his pouch a great store of gold, and would have the
old man take it. But Melibæus pushed it from him.
“I desire it not,” he said; “this is the thing that breeds such mischief
in the world. But if you are content to abide here and lead our
shepherd’s life, be it so; I am well content.”
So Sir Calidore abode in the old man’s house, delighting himself with
the daily sight of the fair Pastorella, and bearing her company whenever
he could find excuse. Very high courtesy did he show to the maid; but
she, having been used to more lowly things, held it in but light esteem.
This the knight did not fail to perceive. So he doffed his knightly
attire, and clad himself in shepherd’s dress, and laid aside his spear
for a shepherd’s crook. One had thought him another Paris when for
Œnone’s sake he fed her flocks on the Phrygian Ida. So did the shepherd
Calidore go day by day to the fields with Pastorella’s flock. He kept
watch against the wolf while the maid sported and played, and at
even—such is the might of love—he would essay to help in the milking of
the ewes.
These things were little to the liking of Corydon, who had long courted
the maid. He wore a scowling face and would complain that old service
was forgotten, and bore himself in most injurious fashion. Calidore, on
the other hand, never abated one jot of his usual courtesy, showing no
sign of rancour or offence, but rather seeking, as it seemed, to commend
his rival to the good opinion of the maid. So when they danced to the
piping of Colin Clout, and the others would have Calidore lead the ring,
the knight took Corydon and set him in his place. And when Pastorella
took the garland of flowers from her head and set it on Calidore’s, he
again put it on the head of Corydon, much to the youth’s content.
Another time, when the shepherds had games and contests of skill and
strength, the prize being a garland which the fair Pastorella had twined
with her own hands, Corydon stepped into the ring and challenged the
knight to a bout of wrestling. He was himself well skilled in the art,
and being supple and strong sought to put his rival to open shame. But
he was much mistaken in his man, for the knight far excelled him both in
strength and in skill, and gave him such a fall as well-nigh broke his
neck. Nevertheless, when Pastorella bestowed on him the crown, he passed
it to Corydon, saying that he in truth deserved it more, and that he had
prevailed by fortune rather than by skill. Thus did the knight, so
courteous was he and large of heart, win the fair maiden’s favour. But
there was nothing which advanced him more than that which is now to be
told.
On a certain day when these three, to wit, Pastorella and Sir Calidore
and the shepherd Corydon, went out into the wood to gather strawberries,
a tiger suddenly rushed out from a thicket, and with wide gaping mouth
ran at the maid. She, seeing herself alone, for her companions chanced
to be divided from her, cried aloud for succour. And when Corydon, who
was the nearer of the two, heard the cry, he ran to help her. But when
he saw how fierce a beast it was that was attacking her, his courage
failed him, and he fled, putting his life before his love. But Calidore,
who also had heard the crying, coming not far behind, when he saw the
tiger and the maiden held in his claws, ran at the beast with all his
strength, and first striking him to the ground with such a blow that the
creature could not stand under it, then cut off its head and laid it at
the maiden’s feet. Small wonder is it that she gave her love to a knight
so courteous and so bold. So for a while they abode in great content,
save that Sir Calidore had put out of his mind the quest on which he was
bound, concerning which quest he had sworn to the great Queen Gloriana
that nothing should hinder him from it.