Till on a daye it so beffell
Great dill to him was dight;
The maydens love removde his mynd,
To care-bed went the knighte.

One while he spred his armes him fro,
One while he spred them nye:

"And aye! but I winne that ladyes love,
For dole now I mun dye."

And whan our parish-masse was done,
Our kinge was bowne to dyne:
says, "Where is Syr Cauline,
That is wont to serve the wyne?"

He

Then aunswerde him a courteous knighte,
And fast his handes gan wringe :

"Fetche me downe my daughter deere,

She is a leeche fulle fine;

30

Goe take him doughe, and the baken bread,

And serve him with the wyne soe red:

Lothe I were him to tine."

Fair Christabelle to his chaumber goes,

Her maydens followyng nye:

35

"O well," she sayth, "how doth my lord ?" "O sicke, thou fayr ladyè.”

"Nowe ryse up wightlye, man, for shame,

Never lye soe cowardlee;

For it is told in my fathers halle,

40

You dye for love of mee."

"Fayre ladye, it is for your love

That all this dill I drye :

For if you wold comfort me with a kisse,

Then were I brought from bale to blisse,

45

No lenger wold I lye."

"Syr Knighte, my father is a kinge,

I am his onlye heire;

Alas! and well you knowe, Syr Knighte,

I never can be youre fere."

50

"O ladye, thou art a kinges daughter,
And I am not thy peere;

But let me doe some deedes of armes
To be your bacheleere."

"Some deedes of armes if thou wilt doe, My bacheleere to bee,

55

(But ever and aye my heart wold rue,

Giff harm shold happe to thee,)

66

Upon Eldridge hill there groweth a thorne,
Upon the mores brodinge;

60

And dare ye, Syr Knighte, wake there all nighte,

Untill the fayre morninge?

"For the Eldridge knighte, so mickle of mighte,

Will examine you beforne;

And never man bare life awaye,

65

But he did him scath and scorne.

"That knighte he is a foul paynìm, And large of limb and bone;

And but if heaven may be thy speede,

Thy life it is but gone."

70

"Nowe on the Eldridge hilles Ile walke,"

For thy sake, fair ladìe

;

And Ile either bring you a ready tokèn,

Or Ile never more you see.

The lady is gone to her own chaumbère,
Her maydens following bright;

Syr Cauline lope from care-bed soone,

75

And to the Eldridge hills is gone,

For to wake there all night.

Unto midnight, that the moone did rise,
He walked up and downe ;

80

Then a lightsome bugle heard he blowe

Over the bents soe browne:

Quoth hee, "If cryance come till my heart,

I am ffar from any good towne." 3

85

2 Perhaps wake, as in ver. 61.

3 This line is restored from the folio MS

And soone he spyde on the mores so broad

A furyous wight and fell;

A ladye bright his brydle led,

Clad in a fayre kyrtèll:

And soe fast he called on Syr Caulìne,

"O man, I rede thee flye,

90

For, 'but' if cryance come till thy heart,

I weene but thou mun dye."

He sayth, "No' cryance comes till my heart,
Nor, in faith, I wyll not flee ;

95

For, cause thou minged not Christ before,

The less me dreadeth thee."

The Eldridge knighte, he pricked his steed;
Syr Cauline bold abode :

Then either shooke his trustye speare,

100

And the timber these two children 4 bare

Soe soone in sunder slode.

Then tooke they out theyr two good swordes,

And layden on full faste,

Till helme and hawberke, mail and sheelde,
They all were well-nye brast.

105

The Eldridge knight was mickle of might,

And stiffe in stower did stande;

But Syr Cauline with a 'backward' stroke,

He smote off his right-hand;

110

That soone he, with paine and lacke of bloud,

Fell downe on that lay-land.

Then up Syr Cauline lift his brande

All over his head so hye:

"And here I sweare by the holy roode, Nowe, caytiffe, thou shalt dye."

i.e. Knights.-See the preface to Child Waters, >1. ii.

"For the maydens love that most you love,

Now smyte no more I

praye;

And aye whatever thou wilt, my lord,

He shall thy hests obaye."

"Now sweare to mee, thou Eldridge knighte,

125

And here on this lay-land,

That thou wilt believe on Christ his laye,

And therto plight thy hand :

“And that thou never on Eldridge come

To sporte, gamon, or playe;

130

And that thou here give up thy armes
Until thy dying daye."

The Eldridge knighte gave up his armes
With many a sorrowfulle sighe;

And sware to obey Syr Caulines hest,

135

Till the tyme that he shold dye.

And he then up and the Eldridge knighte
Sett him in his saddle anone;

And the Eldridge knighte and his ladye,
To theyr castle are they gone.

140

Then he tooke up the bloudy hand,

That was so large of bone,

And on it he founde five ringes of gold
Of knightes that had be slone.

Then he tooke up the Eldridge sworde,
As hard as any flint :

145

And he tooke off those ringès five,

As bright as fyre and brent.

Home then pricked Syr Cauline,
As light as leafe on tree;
I-wys he neither stint ne blanne,

Till he his ladye see.

Then downe he knelt upon his knee,
Before that lady gay:

"O ladye, I have bin on the Eldridge hills:
These tokens I bring away'

VOL. I.

་་

"Now welcome, welcome, Syr Cauline,

Thrice welcome unto mee,

For now I perceive thou art a true knighte,

Of valour bolde and free."

160

"O ladye, I am thy own true knighte,

Thy hests for to obaye;

And mought I hope to winne thy love!".
No more his tonge colde say.

The ladye blushed scarlette redde,

165

And fette a gentill sighe:

"Alas! Syr Knight, how may this bee,

For my degree's soe highe?

"But sith thou hast hight, thou comely youth,

To be my batchilere,

170

Ile promise, if thee I may not wedde,

I will have none other fere."

Then shee held forthe her lilly-white hand

Towards that knighte so free;

He gave to it one gentill kisse,

175

His heart was brought from bale to blisse,
The teares sterte from his ee.

"But keep my counsayl, Syr Caulìne,

Ne let no man it knowe;

For, and ever my father sholde it ken,
I wot he wolde us sloe."

180

From that daye forthe, that ladye fayre
Lovde Syr Caulìne the knighte:

From that daye forthe, he only joyde
Whan shee was in his sight.

185

**

Yea, and oftentimes they mette

Within a fayre arboùre,

Where they, in love and sweet daliaunce,
Past manye a pleasaunt houre.

In this conclusion of the First Part, and at the beginning of the Second, the reader will observe a resemblance to the story of Sigismunda and Guiscard, as told by Boccace and Dryden: see the latter's description of the lovers meeting in the cave, and those