For all the gold that was under heaven He durst not near him nigh. "And how now? kempe!" said the King of Spain,— "And how what aileth thee?" He says" It is written in his forehead, All and in gramarye, That for all the gold that is under heaven King Estmere then pull❜d forth his harp, As he sate at the meat. "Now stay thy harp, thou proud harper ! For an thou playest as thou beginn'st He struck upon his harp again, She laugh'd loud laughters three. "Now sell me thy harp!" said the King of Spain,"Thy harp and the strings each one : And as many gold nobles thou shalt have As there be strings thereon." "And what would ye do with my harp?" he said, "If I did sell it ye." "To play my wife and me a fit When a-bed together we be." "Now sell me, sir King! thy bride so gay, As she sits laced in pall; And as many gold nobles I will give As there be rings in the hall.” "And what would ye do with my bride so gay, If I did sell her ye? More seemly it is for her fair body To lie by me than thee." He play'd again both loud and shrill; "O lady! this is thy own true Love, "O lady! this is thy own true Love, The lady look'd, the lady blush'd, Up then rose the kemperye men, And loud they gan to cry: 'Ah, traitors! ye have slain our King And therefore ye shall die." King Estmere threw the harp aside, And aye, their swords so sore can bite, Through help of gramarye, That soon they have slain the kemperye men Or forced them forth to flee. King Estmere took that fair lady And married her to his wife, And brought her home to merry Englànd SIR CAWLINE. Jesus! lord, mickle of might, Forby a knight I say my song And in that land dwells a King Over all does bear the [shine]; And with him there dwell'd a courteous knight, Men call him Sir Cawline. And he hath a lady to his daughter, Of fashion she hath no peer: Knights and lords they woo'd her both, Sir Cawline loved her best of any, To discreeve his counsel to no man; Till it befell upon a day Great dole to him was dight: The maiden's love removed his mind; To care-bed went the knight. One while he spread his arms him from, "For the maiden's love that I have most mind This day may comfort me, Or else ere noon I shall be dead! Thus can Sir Cawline say. When our parish mass that it was done, But then answer'd a courteous knight, "Sir Cawline's sick, and like to be dead "Fetch ye down my daughter dear! She is a leech full fine; Ay! and take you dough and the baken bread, For full loath I would him tine." This lady is gone to his chamber, "O well," she saith, "how doth my lord?" "But rise up wightly, man! for shame, It is told in my father's hall "It is for your love, fair Lady! But if you would comfort me with a kiss, "Alas! so well you know, Sir Knight! I can not be your [fere]." "For some deeds of arms fain would I do To be your batcheler." "Upon Eldridge Hill there grows a thorn Upon the moors broding; And would you, Sir Knight! wake there all night To day of the other morning? "For the Eldridge King, that is mickle of might, Will examine you beforne; And there never was man bare his life away "But I will for your sake, Lady! Wake on the bents so brown, And I'll either bring you a ready token This lady is gone to her chamber, Her maidens following bright; And Sir Cawline gone to the moors so broad Unto midnight the moon did rise He walked up and down; And a lightsome bugle then heard he blow Says he" An cryance come till my heart, And he spied e'en a little him by And fast he call'd upon Sir Cawline : For if cryance come unto thy heart, He says "[No] cryance comes to my heart; For because thou ming'd not Christ before, |