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Till att the last I fell sore sicke,
Yea, sicke soe sore that I must dye;
I sent to her a ring of golde

By which shee knewe me presentlye.
Then shee repairing to the cave,
Before that I gave up the ghost,
Herself closd up my dying eyes;

My Phelis faire, whom I lovd most.
Thus dreadful death did me arrest,

To bring my corpes unto the grave,
And like a palmer dyed I,

Wherby I sought my soule to save.
My body that endured this toyle,

Though now it be consumed to mold,
My statue, faire engraven in stone,
In Warwicke still you may behold.

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II.

Guy and Amarant.

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 nistory of Sir Guy: for, upon comparing it with the common storybook, 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.

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 entirely his own.

GUY journeyes towards that sanctifyed ground
Whereas the Jewes fayre citye sometime stood,
Wherin 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 wight1 did meet,
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,

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Whom noe man durst encounter for his strength, Who, in a castle which he held, had chaind them.

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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.

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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 busines hast thou heere? Art come to feast the crowes about my walls?

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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 braines." "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."
Soe draws his sword, salutes him with the same
About the head, the shoulders, and the side,
Whilst his erected clubb doth death proclaime,
Standinge with huge Colossus' spacious stride,
Putting such vigour to his knotty beame
That like a furnace he did smoke extreamc.

1 Frle Jonas, mentioned in the foregoing ballad.

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But on the ground he spent his strokes in vaine,
For Guy was nimble to avoyde them still,
And ever ere he heav'd his clubb againe,

Did brush his plated coat against his will:
Att such advantage Guy wold never fayle
To bang him soundlye in his coate of mayle.

Att last through thirst the gyant feeble grewe,

And sayd to Guy, "As thou'rt of humane race, Show itt in this, give natures wants their dewe; Let me but 30e and drinke in yonder place; Thou canst not yeeld to 'me' a smaller thing Than to graunt life thats given by the spring."

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"I graunt thee leave," quoth Guye, "goe drink thy last, 55 Go pledge the dragon and the salvage bore,2 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."

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Soe to the spring he goes, and slakes his thirst,
Takeing the water in extremely like

Some wracked shipp that on a rocke is burst,

Whose forced hulke against the stones does stryke; Scooping it in soe fast with both his hands

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That Guy, admiring, to behold it stands.

"Come on," quoth Guy, "let us to worke againe;

Thou stayest about thy liquor overlong;

The fish which in the river doe remaine

Will want thereby; thy drinking doth them wrong; 70 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,

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!"
Ver. 64, bulke. MS. and P.CC.

2 Which Guy had slain before.

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Incensed much by these bold pagan bostes,
Which worthye Guy cold ill endure to heare,
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,

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Which did directly on his body light

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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,

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And aimd a stroke that wonderfullye mist.

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Traytor," quoth Guy, "thy falshood Ile repay,
This coward act to intercept my bloode."
Sayes Amarant, "Ile murther any way;
With enemyes, all vantages are good;
O could I poyson in thy nostrills blowe,
Besure of it I wold dispatch thee soe!"

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"Its well," said Guy, "thy honest thoughts appeare Within that beastlye bulke where devills dwell,

Which are thy tenants while thou livest heare,

But will be landlords when thou comest in hell.

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Vile miscreant, prepare thee for their den,
Inhumane monster, hatefull unto men!

"But breathe thy selfe a time while I goe drinke,
For flameing Phoebus with his fyerye eye
Torments me soe with burning heat, I thinke

My thirst wolde serve to drinke an ocean drye.
Forbear a litle, as I delt with thee."
Quoth Amarant, "Thou hast noe foole of mee!

"Noe, sillye wretch, my father taught more witt, How I shold use such enemyes as thou.

By all my gods I doe rejoice at itt,

To understand that thirst constraines thee now;
For all the treasure that the world containes,
One drop of water shall not coole thy vaines.

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"Releeve my foe! why, 'twere a madmans part!
Refresh an adversarye, to my wrong!
If thou imagine this, a child thou art.

Noe, fellow, I have known the world too long
To be soe simple now I know thy want;
A minutes space of breathing I'll not grant.'

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And with these words, heaving aloft his clubb
Into the ayre, he swings the same about,

Then shakes his lockes, and doth his temples rubb,
And like the Cyclops in his pride doth strout:
Sirra," says hee, "I have you at a lift;

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Now you are come unto your latest shift;

"Perish forever; with this stroke I send thee

A medicine that will doe thy thirst much good;
Take noe more care for drinke before I end thee,
And then wee'll have carouses of thy blood!
Here's at thee with a butcher's downright blow,
To please my furye with thine overthrow!"

"Infernall, false, obdurate feend," said Guy,

"That seemst a lumpe of crueltye from hell;

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Ungratefull monster, since thou dost deny

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The thing to mee wherin I used thee well, With more revenge than ere my sword did make, On thy accursed head revenge Ile take.

"The gyants longitude shall shorter shrinke,

Except thy sun-scorcht skin be weapon proof.
Farewell my thirst! I doe disdaine to drinke.
Streames, keepe your waters to your owne behoof,
Or let wild beasts be welcome thereunto;
With those pearle drops I will not have to do.

“Here, tyrant, take a taste of my good-will;
For thus I doe begin my bloodye bout;
You cannot chuse but like the greeting ill,-
It is not that same clubb will beare you out,
And take this payment on thy shaggye crowne
A blowe that brought him with a vengeance downe.

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15C

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