Sidor som bilder
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The kinge had a ladye to his daughter,
In fashyon she hath no peere;

And princely wightes that ladye wooed
To be theyr wedded feere.1]

Syr Cauline loveth her best of all,
But nothing durst he saye;


Ne descreeve his counsayl to no man,
But deerlye he lovde this may.'

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 bowneR to dyne :
sayes, Where is syr Cauline,
That is wont to serve the wyne ?

Then aunswerde him a courteous knighte,
And fast his handes gan wringe :
Sir Cauline is sicke, and like to dye
Without a good leechinge."

Fetche me downe my daughter deere,

She is a leeche fulle fine:

Goe take him doughe,1o and the baken bread,

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9 medical care.

10 This is an odd misreading of Percy's. The MS. has "I and take you doe and the baken bread," where doe is the auxiliary verb and the and redundant.]


And serve him with the wyne soe red;
Lothe I were him to tine.1

Fair Christabelle to his chaumber goes,
Her maydens followyng nye:

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,

You dye for love of mee.



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For if you wold comfort me with a kisse,

Then were I brought from bale to blisse,
No lenger wold I lye.


[Sir knighte, my father is a kinge,

I am his onlye heire;

Alas! and well you knowe, syr knighte,

I never can be youre fere.

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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,

(But ever and aye my heart wold rue,
Giff' harm shold happe to thee,)]

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


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And dare ye, syr knighte, wake there all nighte
Until the fayre morninge?

For the Eldridge knighte, so mickle' of mighte,
Will examine you beforne:2
And never man bare life awaye,

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.

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, 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;

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.

And soone he spyde on the mores so broad,
A furyous wight and fell;8

A ladye bright his brydle led,

Clad in a fayre kyrtèll:

Perhaps wake, as above in ver. 61.

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And soe fast he called on syr Caulìne,

O man, I rede' thee flye,

For 'but' if cryance comes till thy heart,
I weene but thou mun dye.

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

For, cause thou minged2 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,]

And the timber these two children* bare
Soe soone in sunder slode.3

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.”]

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;

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:

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


Ver. 109, aukeward. MS.

* i.e. Knights. See the Preface to Child Waters, vol. iii.

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Then up and came that ladye brighte,
Fast wringing of her hande:

For the maydens love, that most you love,
Withold that deadlye brande:

For the maydens love, that most you love,
Now smyte no more I praye;

And aye whatever thou wilt, my lord,
He shall thy hests1 obaye.

Now sweare to mee, thou Eldridge knighte,
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,3 or playe:

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

The Eldridge knighte gave up
With many a sorrowfulle sighe;




his armes


And sware to obey syr Caulines hest,
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.


[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 :

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