Thus grew the little Valentine,
Beloved of King and peers;
And showed in all he spake or did
A wit beyond his years.
But chief in gallant feats of arms
He did himself advance,
That ere he grew to man’s estate
He had no peer in France.
And now the early down began
To shade his youthful chin;
When Valentine was dubbed a Knight,
That he might glory win.
“A boon, a boon, my gracious Liege,
I beg a boon of thee!
The first adventure that befalls
May be reserved for me.”
“The first adventure shall be thine;”
The King did smiling say.
Nor many days, when lo! there came
Three palmers clad in gray.
“Help, gracious Lord,” they weeping said;
And knelt, as it was meet;
“From Artois forest we be come,
With weak and weary feet.
“Within those deep and dreary woods
There wends a savage boy;
Whose fierce and mortal rage doth yield
Thy subjects dire annoy.
“’Mong ruthless bears he sure was bred;
He lurks within their den:
With bears he lives; with bears he feeds,
And drinks the blood of men.
“To more than savage strength he joins
A more than human skill;
For arms, nor cunning may suffice
His cruel rage to still.”
Up then rose Sir Valentine
And claimed that arduous deed.
“Go forth and conquer,” said the King,
“And great shall be thy meed.”
Well mounted on a milk-white steed,
His armour white as snow;
As well beseemed a virgin Knight,
Who ne’er had fought a foe,
To Artois forest he repairs
With all the haste he may;
And soon he spies the savage youth
A-rending of his prey.
His unkempt hair all matted hung
His shaggy shoulders round;
His eager eye all fiery glowed;
His face with fury frowned.
Like eagles’ talons grew his nails;
His limbs were thick and strong;
And dreadful was the knotted oak
He bare with him along.
Soon as Sir Valentine approached,
He starts with sudden spring;
And yelling forth a hideous howl,
He made the forests ring.
As when a tiger fierce and fell
Hath spied a passing roe,
And leaps at once upon his throat;
So sprung the savage foe;
So lightly leaped with furious force
The gentle Knight to seize;
But met his tall uplifted spear,
Which sunk him on his knees.
A second stroke so stiff and stern
Had laid the savage low;
But springing up, he raised his club
And aimed a dreadful blow.
[Illustration: BUT SPRINGING UP, HE RAISED HIS CLUB AND AIMED A
DREADFUL BLOW]
The watchful warrior bent his head,
And shunned the coming stroke;
Upon his taper spear it fell,
And all to shivers broke.
Then lighting nimbly from his steed,
He drew his burnisht brand.
The savage quick as lightning flew
To wrest it from his hand.
Three times he grasped the silver hilt;
Three times he felt the blade;
Three times it fell with furious force;
Three ghastly wounds it made.
Now with redoubled rage he roared;
His eye-ball flashed with fire;
Each hairy limb with fury shook;
And all his heart was ire.
Then closing fast with furious gripe
He clasped the champion round,
And with a strong and sudden twist
He laid him on the ground.
But soon the Knight, with active spring,
O’erturned his hairy foe;
And now between their sturdy fists
Past many a bruising blow.
They rolled and grappled on the ground,
And there they struggled long:
Skillful and active was the Knight;
The savage he was strong.
But brutal force and savage strength
To art and skill must yield:
Sir Valentine at length prevailed,
And won the well-fought field.
Then binding straight his conquered foe
Fast with an iron chain,
He ties him to his horse’s tail,
And leads him o’er the plain.
To Court his hairy captive soon
Sir Valentine doth bring;
And kneeling down upon his knee,
Presents him to the King.
With loss of blood and loss of strength
The savage tamer grew;
And to Sir Valentine became
A servant, tried and true.
And ’cause with bears he erst was bred,
Ursine they call his name;
A name which unto future times
The Muses shall proclaim.