And when I told him, King Arthur
As little should him spare—
Go tell, said he, that cuckold king
To meet me if he dare.

Up then started King Arthur,
And sware by hill and dale,

He never would quit that grim baron
Till he had made him quail.

Go fetch my sword Excalibar!
Go saddle me my steed-
Now, by my faith, that grim baron
Shall rue this ruthful deed.

And when he came to Tearn-Wadling,
Beneath the castle wall,-

Come forth! come forth! thou proud baron,
Or yield thyself my thrall.

On magic ground that castle stood,
And fenced with many a spell;

No valiant knight could tread thereon,
But strait, his courage fell.

Forth then rushed that carlish knight—
King Arthur felt the charm;
His sturdy sinews lost their strength,
Down sunk his feeble arm.

Now yield thee! yield thee! King Arthur

Now yield thee unto me;

Or fight with me, or lose thy land,

No better terms may be.

Unless thou swear upon the Rood,

And promise on thy faye,
Here to return to Tearn-Wadling,

Upon the New Year's day.

And bring me word what thing it is
All women most desire-

This is thy ransom, Arthur,—he says,
I'll have no other hire.

King Arthur then held up his hand,
And sware upon his faye;

Then took his leave of the grim baron,

And fast he rode away.

And he rode east, and he rode west,

And did of all inquire,

What thing it is all women crave,
And what they most desire.

Some told him riches, pomp, or state-
Some raiment fine and bright,-
Some told him mirth, some flattery,-
And some a gallant knight.

In letters all King Arthur wrote,
And sealed them with his ring,
But still his mind was held in doubt-
Each told a different thing.

As ruthful he rode over a moor,

He saw a lady sit,

Between an oak and a green holly,

All clad in red scarlet.*

Her nose was crooked and turned outward,

Her chin stood all awry,

"This was a common phrase in our old writers. So Chaucer,'Her hosen were of fyne scarlet red.' "

DR. PERCY.

It is not improbable that scarlet might have been originally the name of a stuff, and afterwards come to be considered as a particular colour. Such was undoubtedly the case with crimson, or crimosin, as we read of purple and white crimson.

And where as should have been her mouth,
Lo! there was set her eye.

Her hair, like serpents, clung about
Her cheeks of deadly hue;

A worse-formed lady than she was

No man mote ever view.

To hail the king in seemly sort,
This lady was full fain;
But King Arthur, all amazed,
No answer made again.

What wight art thou, the lady said,
That wilt not speak to me?
Sir, I may chance to ease thy pain,
Though I be foul to see.

If thou wilt ease my pain he said,
And help me in my need,
Ask what thou wilt, thou grim lady!
And it shall be thy meed.

O swear me this upon the rood,
And promise on thy faye,
And here the secret I will tell,
That shall thy ransom pay.

King Arthur promised on his faith,
And sware upon the rood—
The secret then the lady told,
As lightly well she could.

Now this shall be my pay, Sir King,

And this my guerdon be,

That some young fair and courtly knight
Thou bring to marry me.

Fast then pricked King Arthur,
O'er hill, and dale, and down,

And soon he found the baron's bower,
And soon the grim baron.

He bare his club upon his back,

He stood both stiff and strong,

And, when he had the letters read,
Away the letters flung.

Now yield thee Arthur, and thy lands

All forfeit unto me,

For this is not thy pay, sir king,
Nor may thy ransom be.

Yet hold thy hand, thou proud baron,
I pray thee hold thy hand,

And give me leave to speak once more,
In rescue of my land.

This morn, as I came o'er a moor,

I saw a lady sit,

Between an oak, and a green holly,

All clad in red scarlet.

She

says, All women will have their willThis is their chief desire:

Now yield, as thou art a baron true,
That I have paid mine hire.

An early vengeance light on her,
The carlish baron swore,
She was my sister told thee this,

And she's a misshapen w—e.

But here I will make mine avow,
To do her as ill a turn,—
For ever I may that foul thief get,
In a fire I will her burn.

THE

MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE.

PART II.

HOMEWARD pricked King Arthur,
And a weary man was he;
And soon he met Queen Guenever,
That bride so bright of blee.

What news! what news! thou noble king!
How, Arthur, hast thou sped?

Where hast thou hung the carlish knight?
And where bestowed his head?

The carlish knight is safe for me,
And free from mortal harm :
On magic ground his castle stands,
And fenced with many a charm.

To bow to him I was full fain,
And yield me to his hand;
And but for a loathly lady, there
I should have lost my land.

And now this fills my heart with woe,
And sorrow of my life,—

I swore, a young and courtly knight
Should marry her to his wife.