A boon, a boon, my gracious liege,
I beg a boon of thee!
The first adventure, that befalls,
May be reserv'd for mee. 60
The first adventure shall be thine;
The king did smiling say.
Nor many days, when lo! there came
Three palmers clad in graye.
Help, gracious lord, they weeping say'd; 65
And knelt, as it was meet:
From Artoys forest we be come,
With weak and wearye feet.
Within those deep and drearye woods
There wends a savage boy; 70
Whose fierce and mortal rage doth yield
Thy subjects dire annoy.
'Mong ruthless beares he sure was bred;
He lurks within their den:
With beares he lives; with beares he feeds; 75
And drinks the blood of men.
To more than savage strength he joins
A more than human skill:
For arms, ne cunning may suffice
His cruel rage to still:
Up then rose sir Valentine,
And claim'd that arduous deed.
Go forth and conquer, say'd the king,
And great shall be thy meed.
Well mounted on a milk-white steed, 85
His armour white as snow;
As well beseem'd a virgin knight,
Who ne'er had fought a foe;
To Artoys forest he repairs
With all the haste he may; 90
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 glow'd: 95
His face with fury frown'd.