and was usually sung to the harp at Christmas dinners and brideales, as we learn from Puttenham's Art of Poetry, 4to. 1589.

This ancient romance is not wholly lost. An imperfect copy in black letter," Imprynted at London for Wylliam Copland," in 34 sheets 4to. without date, is still preserved among Mr. Garrick's collection of old plays. As a specimen of the poetry of this antique rhymer, take his description of the dragon mentioned in ver. 105 of the following ballad:

-"A messenger came to the king.

Syr king, he sayd, lysten me now,
For bad tydinges I bring you,

In Northumberlande there is no man,

But that they be slayne everychone:
For there dare no man route,
By twenty myle rounde aboute,
For doubt of a fowle dragon,

That sleath men and beastes downe.
He is blacke as any cole
Rugged as a rough fole;

His bodye from the navill upwarde
No man may it pierce it is so harde;
His neck is great as any summere ;
He renneth as swifte as any distrere ;
Pawes he hath as a lyon:

All that he toucheth he sleath dead downe.
Great winges he hath to flight,

That is no man that bare him might.

There may no man fight him agayne,
But that he sleath him certayne:
For a fowler beast then is he,
Ywis of none never heard ye."

Sir William Dugdale is of opinion that the story of Guy is not wholly apocryphal, though he acknowledges the monks have sounded out his praises too hyperbolically. In particular, he gives the duel fought with the Danish champion as a real historical truth, and fixes the date of it in the year 926, ætat. Guy 67. See his Warwickshire.

The following is written upon the same plan as ballad V. Book I. but which is the original, and which the copy, cannot be decided. This song is ancient, as may be inferred from the idiom preserved in the margin, ver. 94. 102: and was once popular, as appears from Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle, Act 2. sc. ult.

It is here published from an ancient MS copy in the Editor's old folio volume, collated with two printed ones, one of which is in black letter in the Pepys collection.

WAS ever knight for ladyes sake
Soe tost in love, as I Sir Guy
For Phelis fayre, that lady bright
As ever man beheld with eye?

An English man I was by birthe:
In faith of Christ a christyan true :
The wicked laws of infidells

I sought by prowesse to subdue.

'Nine' hundred twenty yeere and odde
After our Saviour Christ his birth,
When King Athèlstone wore the crowne,
I lived heere upon the earth.

Sometime I was of Warwicke erle,
And, as I sayd, of very truth
A ladyes love did me constraine

To seeke strange ventures in my youth.

To win me fame by feates of armes

In strange and sundry heathen lands; Where I atchieved for her sake

Right dangerous conquests with my hands.

For first I sayled to Normandye,

And there I stoutlye wan in fight
The emperours daughter of Almaine,
From manye a vallyant worthye knight.

Then passed I the seas to Greece
To helpe the emperour in his right;
Against the mightye souldans hoaste
Of puissant Persians for to fight.

Where I did slay of Sarazens,

And heathen pagans, manye a man ; And slew the souldans cozen deere,

Who had to name doughtye Coldràn.

Eskeldered a famous knight

To death likewise I did pursue :
And Elmayne King of Tyre alsoe,
Most terrible in fight to viewe.

I went into the souldans hoast,
Being thither on embassage sent,
And brought his head awaye with mee;
I having slaine him in his tent.

There was a dragon in that land

Most fiercely mett me by the waye As hee a lyon did pursue,

Which I myself did alsoe slay.

Then soon I past the seas from Greece, And came to Pavye land aright: Where I the duke of Pavye killed,

His hainous treason to requite.

To England then I came with speede,
To wedd faire Phelis lady bright:
For love of whome I travelled farr
To try my manhood and my might.

But when I had espoused her,

I stayd with her but fortye dayes, Ere that I left this ladye faire,

And went from her beyond the seas.

All cladd in gray, in pilgrim sort,
My voyage from her I did take

Unto the blessed Holy-land,

For Jesus Christ my Saviours sake.

Ver. 17, Two hundred, MS. and P.

The Editor found this Poem in his ancient folio manuscript among the old ballads; he was desirous, therefore, that it should still accompany them; and as it is not altogether devoid of merit, its insertion here will be pardoned.

Although this piece seems not imperfect, there is reason to believe that it is only a part of a much larger poem, which contained the whole history of Sir Guy for, upon comparing it with the common story book 12mo, we find the latter to be nothing more than this poem reduced to prose: which is only effected by now and then altering the rhyme, and throwing out some few of the poetical ornaments. The disguise is so slight, that it is an easy matter to pick complete stanzas in any page of that book.

Ver. 94, 102, doth lye, MS.

The author of this poem has shown some invention. Though he took the subject from the old romance quoted before, he has adorned it afresh and made the story intirely his own.

Guy journeyes towards that sanctifyed ground,

Whereas the Jewes fayre citye sometime stood,
Wherein our Saviours sacred head was crownd,
And where for sinfull man he shed his blood:
To see the sepulcher was his intent,
The tombe that Joseph unto Jesus lent.

With tedious miles he tyred his wearye feet,
And passed desart places full of danger,
At last with a most woefull wight* did meet,

Erle Jonas, mentioned in the foregoing ballad.

5

A man that unto sorrow was noe stranger: For he had fifteen sonnes, made captives all To slavish bondage, in extremest thrall.

A gyant called Amarant detaind them,

10

Whom noe man durst encounter for his strength: Who in a castle, which he held, had chaind them: 15 Guy questions, where? and understands at length The place not farr.-Lend me thy sword, quoth hee, Ile lend my manhood all thy sonnes to free.

With that he goes, and lays upon the dore,

Like one that sayes, I must, and will come in: 20 The gyant never was soe rowz'd before :

For noe such knocking at his gate had bin :
Soe takes his keyes, and clubb, and cometh out.
Staring with ireful countenance about.

Sirra, quoth hee, what business hast thou heere? 25
Art come to feast the crowes about my walls?
Didst never heare, noe ransome can him cleere,
That in the compasse of my furye falls:
For making me to take a porters paines,
With this same clubb I will dash out thy braires. 30

Gyant, quoth Guy, y'are quarrelsome I see,
Choller and you seem very neere of kin :
Most dangerous at the clubb belike you bee;

I have bin better armd, though nowe goe thin; But shew thy utmost hate, enlarge thy spight, Keene is my weapon, and shall doe me right.

35

Att last through thirst the gyant feeble grewe,
And sayd to Guy, As thou'rt of humane race, 50
Shew itt in this, give natures wants their dewe,

Let me but goe, and drinke in yonder place:
Thou canst not yeeld to 'me' a smaller thing,
Than to graunt life, thats given by the spring.

I graunt thee leave, quoth Guye, goe drink thy last,55 Go pledge the dragon, and the salvage bore*: Succeed the tragedyes that they have past,

But never thinke to taste cold water more: Drinke deepe to death and unto him carouse: Bid him receive thee in his earthen house.

60

Come on, quoth Guy, let us to worke againe, Thou stayest about thy liquor overlong ; The fish, which in the river doe remaine,

223

71

Will want thereby; thy drinking doth them wrong: But I will see their satisfaction made, With gyants blood they must, and shall be payd.

Villaine, quoth Amarant, Ile crush thee streight;
Thy life shall pay thy daring toungs offence:
This clubb, which is about some hundred weight, 75
Is deathes commission to dispatch thee hence:
Dresse thee for ravens dyett I must needes;
And breake thy bones, as they were made of reedes.
Incensed much by these bold pagan bostes,

Which worthye Guy cold ill endure to heare, 80
He hewes upon those bigg supporting postes,
Which like two pillars did his body beare:
Amarant for those wounds in choller growes
And desperatelye att Guy his clubb he throwes:
Which did directly on his body light,

85

Soe violent, and weighty there-withall, That downe to ground on sudden came the knight; And, ere he cold recover from the fall, The gyant gott his clubb againe in fist, And and a stroke that wonderfullye mist.

90

65

Whose forced hulke against the stone does stryke; Scooping it in soe fast with both his hands, That Guy admiring to behold it stands.

Ver. 64, bulke, MS. and PCC. * Which Guy had slain before.

180

The foregoing poem on "Guy and Amarant has been discovered to be a fragment of "The famous historie of Guy earle of Warwicke, by Samuel Rowlands, London, printed by J. Bell, 1649," 4to. in xii cantos, beginning thus:

"When dreadful Mars in armour every day." Whether the edition in 1649 was the first is not known, but the author Sam. Rowlands was one of the minor poets who lived in the reigns of Queen Elizabeth and James I. and perhaps later. His other poems are chiefly of the religious kind, which makes it probable that the history of Guy was one of his earliest performances.-There are extant of his (1.) The betraying of Christ, Judas in dispaire, the seven words of our Saviour on the crosse, with other poems on the passion, &c. 1598, 4to. [Ames Typ. p. 428.]-(2) A Theatre of delightful Recreation. Lond. printed for A. Johnson, 1605," 4to. (Penes editor.) This is a book of poems on subjects chiefly taken from the Old Testament. (3.) "Memory of Christ's miracles, in verse. Lond. 1618, 4to."

"

(4.)

Heaven's glory, earth's vanity, and hell's horror." Lond. 1638, 8vo. [These two in Bod. Cat.]

In the present edition the foregoing poem has been much improved fom the printed copy.

I have not been able to meet with a more ancient copy of this humorous old song, than that printed in the Tea-Table Miscellany, &c. which seems to have admitted some corruptions.

LATE in an evening forth I went

A little before the sun gade down, And there I chanc't, by accident,

To light on a battle new begun:

A man and his wife wer fawn in a strife,
I canna weel tell ye how it began;
aye she wail'd her wretched life,
Cryeng, Evir alake, mine auld goodman!

But

5

HE.

Thy auld goodman, that thou tells of,

To think on those blyth days I had, Whan I and he together ley

35

In armes into a well-made bed: But now I sigh and may be sad,

And ilka ane leugh him to scorn:

Thy courage is cauld, thy colour wan, Thou falds thy feet, and fa's asleep;

Thou'lt nevir be like mine auld goodman.

40

15

This seems to be the old song quoted in Fletcher's "Knight of the Burning Pestle," Acts 2d and 3d; although the six lines there preserved are somewhat different from those in the ballad, as it stands at present. The reader will not wonder at this, when he is informed that this is only given from a modern printed copy picked up on a stall. Its full title is, "Fair Margaret's Misfortunes; or Sweet William's frighful dreams on his wedding night, with the sudden death and burial of those noble lovers."The lines preserved in the play are this distich, "You are no love for me, Margaret, I am no love for you."