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'd his name,—

A name which unto future times
The minstrels shall proclaim.

Part the Second,

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 flow'd,
Their revelry and mirth,

A youthful knight tax'd Valentine
Of base and doubtful birth.

The foul reproach, so grossly urged,
His generous heart did wound;
And straight he vow'd 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 glitter'd in the sun.

Beneath the bridge with strange device,
A hundred bells were hung;

That man nor beast might pass thereon,
But straight their 'larum rung.

This quickly found the youthful pair,
Who boldly crossing o'er,

The jangling sound bedeaft their ears,
And rung from shore to shore.

Quick at the sound the castle-gates
Unlock'd and open'd wide,

And straight a giant huge and grim
Stalk'd 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 aim'd a dreadful thrust;
The spear against the giant glanced,
And caused the blood to burst.

Mad and outrageous with the pain,
He whirl'd his mace of steel:

The very wind of such a blow

Had made the champion reel.

It happ❜ly miss'd; and now the knight His glittering sword display'd,

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 grim his eyes:

The youth repeats his heavy blows:
He gasps, he groans, he dies.

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 murder'd knights

They found where'er they came:

At length within a lonely cell

They saw a mournful dame.

Her gentle eyes were dimm'd with tears;
Her cheeks were pale with woe:
And long Sir Valentine besought
Here 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 drown 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
Full many a happy day;
When, lo! a foul and treacherous man
Y-wrought our love's decay.

"His seeming goodness won him power;
He had his master's ear:
And long to me and all the world
He did a saint appear.

"With treason, villany, and wrong,

My goodness he repaid;

With evil thoughts he fill'd my lord,
And me to death betray'd.

"But, moved by my complaints and tears, At length my life he spared;

But bade me instant quit the realm,
One trusty knight my guard.

"Forth on my journey I depart,
Oppress'd with grief and woe;

And towards my brother's distant court, With my two babes, I go.

"But now 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 a wood,
And seized my younger son:
Affection lent my weakness wings,
And after them I run.

"But all forewearied, weak, and spent,
I quickly swoon'd away;

And there beneath the greenwood shade
Long time I lifeless lay.

"At length my knight brought me relief, And raised me from the gound;

But neither of my pretty babes
Could ever more be found.

"And, while in search we wander'd far,
We met that giant grim;

Who ruthless slew my trusty knight,
And bare me off with him.

"But charm'd by heaven, or else my griefs,

He offer'd 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 own'd his crime;

And long your lord hath sought you out
Through every foreign clime.