Sir Mordred lifted up his sworde,

And fierce to meet the king ran hee:

The king his speare he through him thrust;
A fathom thorow his bodìe.

When Mordered felt the stroke of death,
And found that he was wounded soe;
He thruste himselfe upon the speare,
And strucke the king a deadlye blowe.
Then grimmlye dyed Sir Mordered,
Presentlye upon that tree:

And bloody streames ranne from the kinge
Ere to the duke returned hee.

Sir Lukyn then he thus bespake,

Sir knighte, thou hast beene faithfulle tryde, Nowe take my sword Excalibar,1

That hangs so freelye by my syde:

O take my sword Excalibar,

And there into the river throwe:
For here, henceforth, benethe this tree,
All use of weapons I foregoe.

And fare thee well, thou trustye sword,
A better neer had valiant knighte,
With thee full ofte, and manye a daye,
Have I withstood my foe in fighte.
With this good fauchion in my hande,
Oft have I reapd the bloody feelde:
But nowe the fatalle houre is come,
That never more I may thee weelde.

The duke to the river side he went,

And there his owne sword in threwe he:

But he kept back Excalibar,

He kept it back in privitie.

For all of coleyne was the blade;

And all the hilte of precious stone;
And ever alacke! then sayd the knighte,
Must such a sword awaye be throwne?
Then backe he came unto the kinge,
Who sayd, Sir Lukyn, what did yee see?
Nothing, my liege, save that the winde

Blewe oer the waters faire and free.

1 More commonly called "Caliburn." In the folio MS. "Escalberd."

1 "See."

O goe againe, then said the kinge,
O good Sir Lukyn, goe againe :
Into the rivere throwe my sword,

Nor keepe me lingering here in paine.
The duke then to the river went,

And the kings scabberd in threwe hee;
But hee kept backe Excalibar,

And hid it undernethe a tree.

Then baeke he came to tell the kinge,
Who sayde, Sir Lukyn, sawe ye oughte?
Nothinge, my liege, save that the winde
Nowe with the angrye waters fought.

O Lukyn, Lukyn, said the kinge,
Twice haste thou dealt deceytfullye:
Alacke, whom may wee ever truste,

When suche a knighte soe false can bee?
Saye, wouldst thou have thy master dead,
All for a sword, that wins thine eye?
Nowe goe againe, and throwe it in,
Or here the one of us shall dye.

The duke, all shent with this rebuke,
No aunswere made unto the kinge:
But to the rivere tooke the sworde,

And threwe it far as he coulde flinge.

A hande and an arme did meete the sworde,
And flourishd three times in the air;
Then sunke benethe the renninge streme,
And of the duke was seene noe mair.

All sore astonied stood the duke;

He stood as still, as still mote bee:
Then hastend backe to telle the kinge;
But he was gone from under the tree.

But to what place he cold not tell,
For never after hee did him spye:1
But hee saw a barge goe from the land,
And hee heard ladyes howle and crye.2

MS.

2 Not unlike that passage in Virgil:

Summoque ulularunt vertice nymphæ.

"Ladies" was the word our old English writers used for "nymphs:" as in the following lines of an old song in the Editor's folio manuscript :

And whether the kinge were there, or not,

Hee never knewe, nor ever colde:

For from that sad and direfulle daye,

Hee never more was seene on molde.

*

V. THE LEGEND OF KING ARTHUR

We have here a short summary of King Arthur's History as given by Jeff. of Monmouth and the old Chronicles, with the addition of a few circumstances from the romance Morte Arthur. The ancient Chronicle of Ger. de Leew (quoted above in p. 206.) seems to have been chiefly followed upon the authority of which we have restored some of the names which were corrupted in the manuscript, and have transposed one stanza, which appeared to be misplaced, viz. that beginning at v. 49, which in the manuscript followed v. 36.

Printed from the Editor's ancient folio manuscript.

OF Brutus'1 blood, in Brittaine borne,
King Arthur I am to name;

Through Christendome, and Heathynesse,
Well knowne is my worthy fame.

In Jesus Christ I doe beleeve;
I am a christyan bore:

The Father, Sone, and Holy Gost
One God, I doe adore.

In the four hundred ninetieth yeere,2
Over Brittaine I did rayne,
After my savior Christ his byrth:
What time I did maintaine

The fellowshipp of the table round,
Soe famous in those dayes;
Whereatt a hundred noble knights,
And thirty sat alwayes:

When scorching Phoebus he did mount,
Then Lady Venus went to hunt:

To whom Diana did resort,

With all the Ladyes of hills, and valleys,
Of springs, and floodes, &c.

2 He began his reign A.D. 515, according to the Chronicles.

Who for their deeds and martiall feates,
As bookes done yett record,
Amongst all other nations

Wer feared throwgh the world.

And in the castle off Tyntagill
King Uther mee begate
Of Agyana1 a bewtyous ladye,
And come of "hie "2 estate.

And when I was fifteen yeere old,
Then was I crowned kinge:
All Brittaine that was att an upròre,
I did to quiett bringe.

And drove the Saxons from the realme,
Who had opprest this land;

All Scotland then throughe manly feats
I conquered with my hand.

Ireland, Denmarke, Norway,
These countryes wan I all;
Iseland, Gotheland, and Swethland;
And made their kings my thrall.

I conquered all Gallya,

That now is called France;
And slew the hardye Froll in feild 3

My honor to advance.

And the ugly gyant Dynabus

Soe terrible to vewe,

That in Saint Barnards mount did lye,
By force of armes I slew:

And Lucyus the emperour of Rome
I brought to deadly wracke;
And a thousand more of noble knightes
For feare did turne their backe:

Five kinges of 'paynims '5 I did kill
Amidst that bloody strife;

Besides the Grecian emperour
Who alsoe lost his liffe.

1 She is named "Igerna" in the old Chronicles.

2 "His." MS.

8 "Froland field," MS. Froll, according to the Chronicles, was a Roman knight, governor of Gaul.

4 "Danibus." MS.

5 "Of Pavye." MS.

Whose carcasse I did send to Rome
Cladd poorlye on a beere;
And afterward I past Mount-Joye

The next approaching yeere.

Then I came to Rome, where I was mett

Right as a conquerour,

And by all the cardinalls solempnelye
I was crowned an emperour.

One winter there I made abode :
Then word to mee was brought
Howe Mordred had oppressd the crowne:
What treason he had wrought
Att home in Brittaine with my queene;
Therfore I came with speede
To Brittaine backe, with all my power,
To quitt that traiterous deede :

And soone at Sandwiche I arrivde,
Where Mordred me withstoode:

But yett at last I landed there,

With effusion of much blood.

For there my nephew Sir Gawaine dyed,
Being wounded in that sore,
The whiche Sir Lancelot in fight
Had given him before.

Thence chased I Mordered away,
Who fledd to London right,
From London to Winchester, and
To Cornewalle tooke his flyght.
And still I him pursued with speed
Till at the last wee mett:
Wherby an appointed day of fight
Was there agreed and sett.
Where we did fight, of mortal life
Eche other to deprive,

Till of a hundred thousand men
Scarce one was left alive.

There all the noble chivalrye

Of Brittaine tooke their end. O see how fickle is their state That doe on feates1 depend! 1 Perhaps "fates."