“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;
And Adler he did sing-

"O lady! this is thy own true Love,
No harper, but a King.

"O lady! this is thy own true Love,
As plainly thou mayst see;
And I'll rid thee of that foul paynim
Who parts thy Love and thee."

66

The lady look'd, the lady blush'd,
And blush'd and look'd again,
While Adler he hath drawn his brand,
And hath Sir Bremor slain.

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 swith he drew his brand;
And Estmere he and Adler young
Right stiff in stour can stand.

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
With her to lead his life.

SIR CAWLINE.

Jesus! lord, mickle of might,
That died for us on the rood,
To maintain us in all our right,
That loves true English blood!

Forby a knight I say my song
Was bold and full hardỳ,-
Sir Robert Bruce would forth to fight
Into Ireland over the sea.

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,
Trusted to have been her [fere].

Sir Cawline loved her best of any,
But nothing durst he say

To discreeve his counsel to no man;
But dearly loved this [may].

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,
And cried so piteously-

"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,
And our King was boune to dine,
He says "Where is Sir Cawline
That was wont to serve me wine?"

But then answer'd a courteous knight,
Fast of his hands wringing,—

"Sir Cawline's sick, and like to be dead
Withouten good leeching."

"Fetch ye down my daughter dear! She is a leech full fine;

66

Ay! and take you dough and the baken bread, For full loath I would him tine."

This lady is gone to his chamber,

Her maidens following nye;

"O well," she saith, "how doth my lord?'

"O, sick!" again saith he.

"But rise up wightly, man! for shame,
Never lie so cowardly!

It is told in my father's hall
For my love you will die."

"It is for your love, fair Lady!

That all this dole I drie :

But if you would comfort me with a kiss,
Then I were brought from bale to bliss,—
No longer here would I lie."

"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
Since the day that I was born."

"But I will for your sake, Lady!

Wake on the bents so brown,

And I'll either bring you a ready token
Or I'll never come to you [down].”

This lady is gone to her chamber,

Her maidens following bright;

And Sir Cawline gone to the moors so broad
For to wake there all night.

Unto midnight the moon did rise

He walked up and down;

And a lightsome bugle then heard he blow
Over the bents so brown :

Says he "An cryance come till my heart,
I am far from any good town.”

And he spied e'en a little him by
A furious King and a fell,
And a lady bright his bridle led
That seemly it was to [tell].

And fast he call'd upon Sir Cawline :
"O man! I rede thee fly;

For if cryance come unto thy heart,
I'm afear'd lest thou must die."

He says "[No] cryance comes to my heart;
Nor i' faith! I fear not thee;

For because thou ming'd not Christ before,
The less me dreadeth thee."

But Sir Cawline he shook a spear,

The King was bold and abode,
And the timber those two Children bore
So soon in sunder slode;

For they took and two good swords,
And they laiden on good load.

The Eldridge King was mickle of might,
Stiffly to the ground did stand;

But Sir Cawline with an awkward stroke
He brought him off his hand,—
Ay, and flying over his head so high,
Fell down of that lay land.

And his lady stood a little thereby,

Fast wringing her hands; [and "O]
For the maiden's love that you have most meed,
Smite you my lord no moe!

"And he'll never come upon Eldridge [Hill]
Him to sport, game, or play,

And to meet no man of middle earth
And that lives on Christ his lay."

But he then up, and that Eldridge King
Set in his saddle again;

And that Eldridge King and his lady

To their castle are they gane.

And he took then up that Eldridge sword

As hard as any flint,

And so he did [the hand and] those ringès five,

Harder than fire, and brent.

First he presented to the king's daughter

The hand and then the sword.

[Here without any break in the manuscript follow some disconnected lines, and anon the ballad-singer is recording a new adventure.]