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Sayes, Christ thee fave, thou proud porter :
Sayes, Christ thee fave and fee.
We been harpers, fayd Adler yonge,
Come out of the northe countrée ; We beene come hither untill this place,
This proud weddinge for to see.
Sayd, And your color were white and redd,
As it is blacke and browne,
Were comen untill this towne.
Then they pulled out a ryng of gold,
Layd itt on the porters arme:
Thow wilt faye us no harme.
Sore he looked on kyng Eftmère,
And fore he handled the ryng,
He lett for no kind of thyng.
Kyng Eftmere he light off his steede
Up att the fayre hall board ;
Light on kyng Bremors beard.
Sayes, Stable thou steede, thou proud harper,
Goe stable him in the stalle;
To stable him in a kyngs halle.
My ladd he is so lither, he fayd,
He will do nought that's meete; And aye
that I cold but find the man, Were able him to beate.
Thou speakft proud wordes, fayd the Paynim kyng,
Thou harper here to mee ; There is a man within this halle,
That will beate thy lad and thee.
O lett that man come downe, he fayd,
A fight of him wolde I fee;
Then he shall beate of mee.
Downe then came the kemperye man,
And looked him in the eare;
He durft not neigh him neare.
And how nowe, kempe, fayd the kyng of Spayne,
And how what aileth thée?
That for all the gold that is under heaven,
I dare not neigh him nye.
Kyng Eftmere then pulled forth his harpe,
And playd theron so sweete : Upstarte the ladye from the kynge,
As hee fate at the meate.
Nowe stay thy harpe, thou proud harper,
Now ftay thy harpe, I say ;
Thou'lt till my bride awaye.
He ftrucke upon his harpe agayne,
And playd both fayre and free ; The ladye was so pleafde theratt,
She laught loud laughters three.
Nowe sell me thy harpe, fayd the kyng of Spayne,
Thy harpe and stryngs eche one,
And what wold ye doe with my harpe, he fayd,
If I did sell it yee?
When abed together we bee.
Now fell me, fyr kyng, thy bryde foe gay,
As shee fitts laced in pall,
As there be rings in the hall.
And what wold ye doe with my bryde so gay,
If I did sell her
To lye by mee than thee,
Hee played agayne both loud and thrille,
And Adler he did fyng, “ O ladye, this is thy owne true love;
« Noe harper but a kyng.
“ O ladye, this is thy owne true love,
“ As playnlye thou mayest fee; “ And Ile rid thee of that foule paynìm,
“Who partes thy love and thee."
The ladye louked, the ladye blushte,
And blushte and lookt agayne,
And hath fir Bremor slayne.
Up then rose the kemperye men,
And loud they gan to crye:
Kyng Eftmere threwe the harpe afyde,
And swith he drew his brand;
Right stiffe in ftour can stand.
And aye their fwordes soe fore can byte,
Throughe help of gramaryè,
Or forst them forth to flee.
Kyng Eftmere tooke that fayre ladye,
And marryed her to his wyfe,
With her to leade his lyfe.
The word GRAMARYE occurs several times in the foregoing poem, and every where seems to fignify Magic or Some kind of supernatural science. I know not whence to derive it, unless it be from the word GRAMMAR : in those dark and ignorant ages when it was thought a high degree of learning to be able to read and write ; be who had made a little farther progress in literature might well pass for a conjurer or magician.
+++ TERMAGAUNT (p.56.) is the name given in the old Romances to the God of the Saracens. Thus in the Legend of Syr Guy the Scuden (Sultan) swears,
“ So helpe me Mahowne of might,
Sign. P. iij. b.