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115

For hee shall have my broad lay-lands,
And of my crowne be heyre;

And he shall winne fayre Christabelle

To be his wedded fere.

But every knighte of his round tablè
Did stand both still and pale;

For whenever they lookt on the grim soldàn,
It made their hearts to quail.

All woe-begone was that fayre ladyè,
When she sawe no helpe was nye :

She cast her thought on her owne true-love,
And the teares gusht from her eye.

Up then sterte the stranger knighte,

Sayd, Ladye, be not affrayd:

Ile fight for thee with this grimme soldàn,
Thoughe he be unmacklye made.

And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge sworde,
That lyeth within thy bowre,

I truste in Christe for to slay this fiende
Thoughe he be stiff in stowre.

Goe fetch him downe the Eldridge sworde,

The kinge he cryde, with speede :

Nowe heaven assist thee, courteous knighte;
My daughter is thy meede.

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130

The gyaunt he stepped into the lists,
And sayd, Awaye, awaye:

I sweare, as I am the hend soldàn,

Thou lettest me here all daye.

Then forthe the stranger knight he came
In his blacke armoure dight :

135

The ladye sighed a gentle sighe,

“That this were my true knighte!"

And nowe the gyaunt and knighte be mett
Within the lists soe broad;

140

And made the bloude to flowe:
All pale and wan was that ladye fayre,
And thrice she wept for woe.

The soldan strucke a third fell stroke,
Which brought the knighte on his knee:

Sad sorrow pierced that ladyes heart,

And she shriekt loud shriekings three.

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155

The knighte he leapt upon his feete,

All recklesse of the pain :

Quoth hee, But heaven be now my speede,

Or else I shall be slaine.

He grasped his sworde with mayne and mighte,

And spying a secrette part,

He drave it into the soldan's syde,

And pierced him to the heart.

Then all the people gave a shoute,
Whan they sawe the soldan falle :
The ladye wept, and thanked Christ,

That had reskewed her from thrall.

And nowe the kinge with all his barons
Rose uppe from offe his seate,

And downe he stepped intò the listes,
That curteous knighte to greete.

But he for payne and lacke of bloude

Was fallen intò a swounde,

And there all walteringe in his gore,

Lay lifelesse on the grounde.

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165

170

Come downe, come downe, my daughter deare, 175

Thou art a leeche of skille;

Farre lever had I lose halfe my landes,

Than this good knighte sholde spille.

Downe then steppeth that fayre ladyè,

To helpe him if she maye;
But when she did his beavere raise,
It is my life, my lord, she sayes,

And shriekte and swound awaye.

180

Sir Cauline juste lifte up his eyes

When he heard his ladye crye,

185

O ladye, I am thine owne true love;
For thee I wisht to dye.

O staye, my deare and onlye lord,
For mee thy faithfulle feere ;
'Tis meet that I shold followe thee,

Who hast bought my love so deare.

Then fayntinge in a deadlye swoune,
And with a deep-fette sighe,
That burst her gentle heart in twayne,
Fayre Christabelle did dye.

200

V.

Edward, Edward.

A SCOTTISH BALLAD.

FROM A MS. COPY TRANSMITTED FROM SCOTLAND.

QUHY dois zour brand sae drop wi' bluid,
Edward, Edward?

Quhy dois zour brand sae drop wi' bluid?
And quhy sae sad gang zee, O?

O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid,

Mither, mither:

O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid:

And I had nae mair bot hee, O.

Zour haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
Edward, Edward:

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10

Zour haukis bluid was nevir sae reid;

My deir son I tell thee, O.

O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid,

Mither, mither:

O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid,

That erst was sae fair and free, O.

Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair,
Edward, Edward :

Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair,
Sum other dule ze drie, O.

O, I hae killed my fadir deir,

Mither, mither:

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