I dyd than taste the aromatyke lycoure, Fragraunt of fume, and swete as any floure; And in my mouthe it had a marveylous scent Of divers spyces, I knewe not what it ment. And after thys further forth me brought Of golde was made a ryght crafty vyne; The flore was paved with berall clarified, 55 60 65 The hall was hanged hye and circuler 70 That treated well of a ful noble story, * Of the doubty waye to the Tower Perillous; Howe a noble knyght should wynne the victory Of many a serpente foule and odious. XI. The Child of Elle, Is given from a fragment in the Editor's folio MS.; which though extremely defective and mutilated, appeared to have so much merit, that it excited a strong desire to attempt a completion of the story. The reader will easily discover the supplemental stanzas by their inferiority, and at the same time be inclined to pardon it, when he considers how difficult it must be to imitate the affecting simplicity and artless beauties of the original. Child was a title sometimes given to a knight. See Gloss. ON yonder hill a castle standes, A younge and comely knighte. The Child of Elle to his garden wente, And stood at his garden pale, Whan, lo! he beheld fair Emmelines page The Child of Elle he hyed him thence And soone he mette faire Emmelines page Y-wis he stoode not stille, Come climbing up the hille. 5 10 Nowe Christe thee save, thou little foot-page, Now Christe thee save and see! My lady shee is all woe-begone, And the teares they falle from her eyne; And aye she laments the deadlye feude Betweene her house and thine. And here shee sends thee a silken scarfe Bedewde with many a teare, And biddes thee sometimes thinke on her, Who loved thee so deare. And here shee sends thee a ring of golde For, ah! her gentle heart is broke, 15 20 25 And in grave soone must shee bee, 30 Sith her father hath chose her a new new love, And forbidde her to think of thee. Her father hath brought her a carlish knight, And within three dayes shee must him wedde, 35 Or he vowes he will her slaye. Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, And telle her that I her owne true love Will dye, or sette her free. Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, This night will I bee at her bowre-windowe, 40 The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne, 45 Untill he came to fair Emmelines bowre, O ladye, Ive been with thy own true love, 50 This night will he bee at thy bowre-windowe, And dye or sette thee free. Nowe daye was gone, and night was come, And all were fast asleepe, All save the ladye Emmeline, Who sate in her bowre to weepe: And soone shee heard her true loves voice Lowe whispering at the walle, Awake, awake, my deare ladyè, Tis I thy true love call. 55 60 Awake, awake, my ladye deare, Come, mount this faire palfràye: This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe, Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knight, 65 Nowe nay, this may not bee; For aye sould I tint my maiden fame, If alone I should wend with thee. O ladye, thou with a knighte so true, 70 To my ladye mother I will thee bringe, "My father he is a baron bolde, Of lynage proude and hye; And what would he saye if his daughtèr Ah! well I wot, he never would rest, And seene thy deare hearts bloode." O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette, I would not care for thy cruel father, Nor the worst that he could doe. 75 80 |