Up to the toure, and in lykewyse dyd I Tyll that I came unto a ryall gate, Where I sawe stondynge the goodly Portres, Whyche axed me, from whence I came a-late; To whome I gan in every thynge expresse All myne adventure, chaunce, and busynesse, And eke my name; I tolde her every dell : Whan she herde this she lyked me right well. Her name, she sayd, was called COUNTENAUNCE; Of whyche there flowed foure ryvers ryght clere, Sweter than Nyluss or Ganges was ther odoure; Tygrys or Eufrates unto them no pere: I dyd than taste the aromatyke lycoure, Fragraunt of fume, and swete as any floure; And in my mouthe it had a marveylous scent Of divers spyces, I knewe not what it ment. * This alludes to a former part of the poem. +"Besy courte." PC. † "Partyes." PC. §"Nysus." PC. And after thys further forth me brought The flore was paved with berall clarified, With pillers made of stones precious, That treated well of a ful noble story, Of the doubty waye to the Tower Perillous *; Howe a noble knyght should wynne the victory Of many a serpente foule and odious. * The story of the poem. XI. THE CHILD OF ELLE. This is given from a fragment in the Editor's folio manuscript: which, though extremely defective and mutilated, appeared to have so much merit, that it excited a strong desire to attempt a completion of the story. The reader will easily discover the supplemental stanzas by their inferiority, and at the same time be inclined to pardon it, when he considers how difficult it must be to imitate the affecting simplicity and artless beauties of the original. "Child" was a title sometimes given to a knight. See Glos On yonder hill a castle standes With walles and towres bedight, The Child of Elle to his garden went, The Child of Elle he hyed him thence, And soone he mette faire Emmelines page Nowe Christe thee save, thou little foot-page, Oh telle me how does thy ladye gaye, My ladye shee is all woe-begone, A And here shee sends thee a silken scarfe And here shee sends thee a ring of golde For, ah! her gentle heart is broke, And in grave soone must shee bee, Sith her father hath chose her a new new love, And forbidde her to think of thee. Her father hath brought her a carlish knight, Sir John of the north countràye, And within three dayes she must him wedde, Or he vowes he will her slaye. Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, And let thy fair ladye know This night will I bee at her bowre-windowe, Betide me weale or woe. The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne, Untill he came to fair Emmelines bowre, O ladye, I've been with thine own true love, Nowe daye was gone, and night was come, Who sate in her bowre to weepe: And soone shee heard her true loves voice Awake, awake, my ladye deare, Come, mount this faire palfraye: Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knight, |