VALENTINE AND URSINE
PART I
When Flora ’gins to deck the fields
With colours fresh and fine,
Then holy clerks their matins sing
To good Saint Valentine!
The King of France that morning fair
He would a-hunting ride:
To Artois forest prancing forth
In all his princely pride.
To grace his sports a courtly train
Of gallant peers attend;
And with their loud and cheerful cries
The hills and valleys rend.
Through the deep forest swift they pass,
Through woods and thickets wild;
When down within a lonely dell
They found a new-born child;
All in a scarlet kercher laid
Of silk so fine and thin;
A golden mantle wrapt him round,
Pinned with a silver pin.
The sudden sight surprised them all;
The courtiers gathered round;
They look, they call, the mother seek;
No mother could be found.
At length the King himself drew near,
And as he gazing stands,
The pretty babe looked up and smiled,
And stretched his little hands.
“Now, by the rood,” King Pepin says,
“This child is passing fair;
I wot he is of gentle blood;
Perhaps some Prince’s heir.
“Go bear him home unto my Court
With all the care ye may:
Let him be christened Valentine,
In honour of this day.
“And look me out some cunning nurse;
Well nurtured let him be;
Nor aught be wanting that becomes
A bairn of high degree.”
They looked him out a cunning nurse,
And nurtured well was he;
Nor aught was wanting that became
A bairn of high degree.
PART II
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.
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.
PART III
In high renown with Prince and peer
Now lived Sir Valentine;
His high renown with Prince and peer
Made envious hearts repine.
It chanced the King upon a day
Prepared a sumptuous feast;
And there came lords and dainty dames,
And many a noble guest.
Amid their cups that freely flowed,
Their revelry and mirth,
A youthful Knight taxed Valentine
Of base and doubtful birth.
The foul reproach, so grossly urged,
His generous heart did wound;
And strait he vowed he ne’er would rest
Till he his parents found.
Then bidding King and peers adieu,
Early one summer’s day,
With faithful Ursine by his side,
From Court he took his way.
O’er hill and valley, moss and moor,
For many a day they pass;
At length, upon a moated lake,
They found a bridge of brass.
Beyond it rose a Castle fair,
Y-built of marble-stone;
The battlements were gilt with gold,
And glittered in the sun.
Beneath the bridge, with strange device,
A hundred bells were hung;
That man, nor beast, might pass thereon
But strait their larum rung.
This quickly found the youthful pair,
Who boldly crossing o’er,
The jangling sound bedeafed their ears,
And rung from shore to shore.
Quick at the sound the castle-gates
Unlocked and opened wide,
And strait a Giant huge and grim
Stalked forth with stately pride.
“Now yield you, caitiffs, to my will!”
He cried with hideous roar;
“Or else the wolves shall eat your flesh,
And ravens drink your gore.”
“Vain boaster,” said the youthful Knight,
“I scorn thy threats and thee;
I trust to force thy brazen gates,
And set thy captives free.”
Then putting spurs unto his steed,
He aimed a dreadful thrust;
The spear against the Giant glanced
And caused the blood to burst.
Mad and outrageous with the pain,
He whirled his mace of steel;
The very wind of such a blow
Had made the champion reel.
It haply missed; and now the Knight
His glittering sword displayed,
And riding round with whirlwind speed
Oft made him feel the blade.
As when a large and monstrous oak
Unceasing axes hew,
So fast around the Giant’s limbs
The blows quick-darting flew.
As when the boughs with hideous fall
Some hapless woodman crush,
With such a force the enormous foe
Did on the champion rush.
A fearful blow, alas! there came;
Both horse and Knight it took,
And laid them senseless in the dust;
So fatal was the stroke.
Then smiling forth a hideous grin,
The Giant strides in haste,
And, stooping, aims a second stroke:
“Now caitiff breathe thy last!”
But ere it fell, two thundering blows
Upon his skull descend;
From Ursine’s knotty club they came,
Who ran to save his friend.
Down sunk the Giant gaping wide,
And rolling his grim eyes;
The hairy youth repeats his blows;
He gasps, he groans, he dies.
PART IV
Quickly Sir Valentine revived
With Ursine’s timely care;
And now to search the castle walls
The venturous youths repair.
The blood and bones of murdered Knights
They found where’er they came;
At length within a lonely cell
They saw a mournful dame.
Her gentle eyes were dimmed with tears;
Her cheeks were pale with woe;
And long Sir Valentine besought
Her doleful tale to know.
“Alas! young Knight,” she weeping said,
“Condole my wretched fate;
A childless mother here you see;
A wife without a mate.
“These twenty winters here forlorn
I’ve drawn my hated breath;
Sole witness of a monster’s crimes,
And wishing aye for death.
“Know, I am sister of a King,
And in my early years
Was married to a mighty Prince,
The fairest of his peers.
“With him I sweetly lived in love
A twelvemonth and a day;
When, lo! a foul and treacherous priest
Y-wrought our loves’ decay.
“With treason, villainy, and wrong,
My goodness he repayed;
With jealous doubts he filled my Lord,
And me to woe betrayed;
“But, ’cause I then was ill, my Lord
At length my life he spared;
But bade me instant quit the realm,
One trusty Knight my guard.
“Forth on my journey I depart,
Oppressed with grief and woe,
And tow’rds my brother’s distant Court,
With breaking heart, I go.
“Long time thro’ sundry foreign lands
We slowly pace forlorn,
At length within a forest wild,
I had two babies born.
“The eldest fair and smooth, as snow
That tips the mountain hoar;
The younger’s little body rough
With hairs was covered o’er.
“But here afresh begin my woes:
While tender care I took
To shield my eldest from the cold,
And wrap him in my cloak,
“A prowling bear burst from the wood,
And seized my younger son;
Affection lent my weakness wings
And after them I run.
“But all forewearied, weak and spent,
I quickly swooned away;
And there beneath the greenwood shade
Long time I lifeless lay.
“At length the Knight brought me relief,
And raised me from the ground;
But neither of my pretty babes
Could ever more be found.
“And, while in search we wandered far,
We met that Giant grim,
Who ruthless slew my trusty Knight,
And bare me off with him.
“But charmed by Heaven, or else my griefs,
He offered me no wrong;
Save that within these lonely walls
I’ve been immured so long.”
“Now, surely,” said the youthful Knight,
“You are Lady Bellisance,
Wife to the Grecian Emperor;
Your brother’s King of France.
“For in your royal brother’s Court
Myself my breeding had;
Where oft the story of your woes
Hath made my bosom sad.
“If so, know your accuser’s dead,
And dying owned his crime;
And long your Lord hath sought you out
Thro’ every foreign clime.
“And when no tidings he could learn
Of his much-wronged wife,
He vowed thenceforth within his Court
To lead a hermit’s life.”
“Now Heaven is kind!” the Lady said;
And dropt a joyful tear;
“Shall I once more behold my Lord?
That Lord I love so dear?”
“But, Madam,” said Sir Valentine,
And knelt upon his knee;
“Know you the cloak that wrapt your babe,
If you the same should see?”
And pulling forth the cloth of gold
In which himself was found,
The Lady gave a sudden shriek,
And fainted on the ground.
But by his pious care revived,
His tale she heard anon;
And soon by other tokens found
He was indeed her son.
“But who’s this hairy youth?” she said;
“He much resembles thee;
The bear devoured my younger son,
Or sure that son were he.”
“Madam, this youth with bears was bred,
And reared within their den.
But recollect ye any mark
To know your son again?”
“Upon his little side,” quoth she,
“Was stamped a bloody rose.”
“Here, Lady, see the crimson mark
Upon his body grows!”
Then clasping both her new-found sons,
She bathed their cheeks with tears;
And soon towards her brother’s Court
Her joyful course she steers.
What pen can paint King Pepin’s joy,
His sister thus restored!
And soon a messenger was sent
To cheer her drooping Lord,
Who came in haste with all his peers,
To fetch her home to Greece;
Where many happy years they reigned
In perfect love and peace.
To them Sir Ursine did succeed,
And long the sceptre bare.
Sir Valentine he stayed in France,
And was his uncle’s heir.
Attributed in part to Bishop Percy
(Done into modern spelling)