And many a time he fighed fore,

And caft a wiftfulle eye:

Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte,
Farre lever had I dye.

Faire Christabelle, that ladye bright,
Was had forthe of the towre;
But ever shee droopeth in her minde,
As nipt by an ungentle winde

Doth fome faire lillye flowre.

And ever fhee doth lament and weepe

To tint her lover foe :

Syr Cauline, thou little think'ft on mee,
But I will ftill be true.

Manye a kinge, and manye a duke,

And lords of high degree,

Did fue to that fayre ladye of love;

But never fhee wolde them nee.

When manye a day was past and gone,
Ne comforte fhe colde finde,

The kynge proclaimed a tourneament,
The cheere his daughters mind:

And there came lords, and there came knights,

Fro manye a farre countryè,

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To

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Then manye a knighte was mickle of might

Before his ladye gaye;

But a stranger wight, whom no man knewe,

He wan the prize eche daye.

His acton it was all of blacke,

His hewberke, and his fheelde,

Ne noe man wift whence he did come,
Ne noe man knewe where he did gone,

Whan they came out the feelde.

And now three days were preftlye past
In feates of chivalrye,

When lo upon the fourth morninge
A forrowfulle fight they fee.

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Before

Before him came a dwarffe full lowe,

That waited on his knee,

And at his backe five heads he bare,

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All wan and pale of blee.

Sir, quoth the dwarffe, and louted lowe,
Behold that hend Soldàin!

Behold these heads I beare with me!

They are kings which he hath flain.

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The Eldridge knight is his owne cousine,
Whom a knight of thine hath fhent :
And hee is come to avenge his wrong,

And to thee, all thy knightes among,

Defiance here hath fent.

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But yette he will appease his wrath
Thy daughters love to winne :

And but thou yeelde him that fayre mayd,
Thy halls and towers must brenne.

Thy head, fyr king; muft goe with mee;

Or elfe thy daughter deere ;

Or else within these lifts foe broad

Thou must finde him a peere.

The king he turned him round aboute,

And in his heart was woe:

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Is there never a knighte of my round table,
This matter will undergoe?

Is there never a knighte amongst yee all
Will fight for my daughter and mee?
Whoever will fight yon grimme foldàn,
Right fair his meede shall bee.

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

And he shall winne faire Christabelle

To be his wedded fere.

But every knighte of his round tablè

Did ftand both ftill and pale;

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

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

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

Up then fterte the ftranger knighte,
Sayd, Ladye, be not affrayd:

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

VOL. HI.

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And

And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge fworde,

That lyeth within thy bowre,

I trufte in Chrifte for to flay this fiende
Thoughe he be ftiff in ftowre.

Goe fetch him downe the Eldridge fworde,
The kinge he cryde, with speede:

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Nowe heaven affift thee, courteous knighte;

My daughter is thy meede.

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The gyaunt he stepped into the lifts,

And fayd, Awaye, awaye:

I fweare, as I am the hend foldàn,
Thou letteft me here all daye.

Then forthe the stranger knight he came

In his blacke armoure dight:

The ladye fighed a gentle fighe,
"That this were my true knighte!"

And nowe the gyaunt and knighte be mett
Within the lifts foe broad
And now with fwordes foe fharpe of steele,

;

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