Читать книгу Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (Vol. 1-3) - Various Authors - Страница 33

Everye white will have its blacke,

And everye sweete its sowre:

This founde the ladye Christabelle

In an untimely howre.

For so it befelle, as syr Caulìne5

Was with that ladye faire,

The kinge her father walked forthe

To take the evenyng aire:

And into the arboure as he went

To rest his wearye feet,10

He found his daughter and syr Caulìne

There sette in daliaunce sweet.

The kinge hee sterted forthe, i-wys,383 And an angrye man was hee: Nowe, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe,15 And rewe shall thy ladìe.

Then forthe syr Cauline he was ledde,

And throwne in dungeon deepe:

And the ladye into a towre so hye,

There left to wayle and weepe.20

The queene she was syr Caulines friend,

And to the kinge sayd shee:

I praye you save syr Caulines life,

And let him banisht bee.

Now, dame, that traitor shall be sent25

Across the salt sea fome:

But here I will make thee a band,384 If ever he come within this land, A foule deathe is his doome.

All woe-begone was that gentil knight30

To parte from his ladyè;

And many a time he sighed sore,

And cast a wistfulle eye:

Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte,

Farre lever385 had I dye.35

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 some faire lillye flowre.40

And ever shee doth lament and weepe

To tint386 her lover soe: Syr Cauline, thou little think'st on mee, But I will still be true.

Manye a kynge, and manye a duke,45

And lorde of high degree,

Did sue to that fayre ladye of love;

But never shee wolde them nee.387

When manye a daye was past and gone,

Ne comforte she colde finde,50

The kynge proclaimed a tourneament,

To cheere his daughters mind:

And there came lords, and there came knights,

Fro manye a farre countryè,

To break a spere for theyr ladyes love55

Before that faire ladyè.

And many a ladye there was sette

In purple and in palle:388 But faire Christabelle soe woe-begone Was the fayrest of them all.60

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 acton389 it was all of blacke,65 His hewberke,390 and his sheelde, Ne noe man wist whence he did come, Ne noe man knewe where he did gone, When they came from the feelde.

And now three days were prestlye391 past70 In feates of chivalrye, When lo upon the fourth mornìnge A sorrowfulle sight they see.

A hugye giaunt stiffe and starke,

All foule of limbe and lere;39275 Two goggling eyen like fire farden,393 A mouthe from eare to eare.

Before him came a dwarffe full lowe,

That waited on his knee,

And at his backe five heads he bare,80

All wan and pale of blee.394

Sir, quoth the dwarffe, and louted395 lowe, Behold that hend396 Soldàin! Behold these heads I beare with me! They are kings which he hath slain.85

The Eldridge knìght is his own cousìne,

Whom a knight of thine hath shent:397 And hee is come to avenge his wrong, And to thee, all thy knightes among, Defiance here hath sent.90

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.398

Thy head, syr king, must goe with mee;95

Or else thy daughter deere;

Or else within these lists soe broad

Thou must finde him a peere.399

The king he turned him round aboute,

And in his heart was woe:100

Is there never a knighte of my round tablè,

This matter will undergoe?

Is there never a knighte amongst yee all

Will fight for my daughter and mee?

Whoever will fight yon grimme soldàn,105

Right fair his meede shall bee.

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.110

But every knighte of his round table

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,115

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:120

Ile fight for thee with this grimme soldàn,

Thoughe he be unmacklye400 made.

And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge sworde,

That lyeth within thy bowre,

I truste in Christe for to slay this fiende125

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.401130

The gyaunt he stepped into the lists,

And sayd, Awaye, awaye:

I sweare, as I am the hend soldàn,

Thou lettest402 me here all daye.

Then forthe the stranger knight he came135

In his blacke armoure dight:

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 now with swordes soe sharpe of steele,

They gan to lay on load.403

The soldan strucke the knighte a stroke,

That made him reele asyde;

Then woe-begone was that fayre ladyè,145

And thrice she deeply sighde.

The soldan strucke a second stroke,

And made the bloude to flowe:

All pale and wan was that ladye fayre,

And thrice she wept for woe.150

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.

The knighte he leapt upon his feete,155

All recklesse of the pain:

Quoth hee, But404 heaven be now my speede, Or else405 I shall be slaine.

He grasped his sworde with mayne and mighte,

And spying a secrette part,160

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,165

That had reskewed her from thrall.406

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.170

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.

Come downe, come downe, my daughter deare,175

Thou art a leeche of skille;

Farre lever407 had I lose halfe my landes, Than this good knighte sholde spille.408

Downe then steppeth that fayre ladyè,

To helpe him if she maye;180

But when she did his beavere raise,

It is my life, my lord, she sayes,

And shriekte and swound awaye.

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.

Then giving her one partinge looke,

He closed his eyes in death,

Ere Christabelle, that ladye milde,190

Begane to drawe her breathe.

But when she found her comelye knighte

Indeed was dead and gone,

She layde her pale cold cheeke to his,

And thus she made her moane.195

O staye, my deare and onlye lord,

For mee thy faithfulle feere;409 'Tis meet that I shold followe thee, Who hast bought my love soe deare.

Then fayntinge in a deadlye swoune,200

And with a deepe-fette410 sighe, That burst her gentle hearte in twayne, Fayre Christabelle did dye.]

⁂

[The following is the original ballad from which Percy concocted his own. It is reprinted from Bishop Percy's Folio MS., ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 1.

Iesus: lord mickle of might,

that dyed ffor vs on the roode to maintaine vs in all our right, that loues true English blood.

ffor by a Knight I say my song,5 was bold & ffull hardye; Sir Robert Briuse wold fforth to ffight in-to Ireland ouer the sea;

& in that land dwells a king which ouer all does beare the bell,10 & with him there dwelled a curteous Knight, men call him Sir Cawline.

And he hath a Ladye to his daughter,

of ffashyon shee hath noe peere;

Knights & lordes they woed her both,15 trusted to haue beene her peere.

Sir Cawline loues her best of oné, but nothing durst hee say to discreeue his councell to noe man, but deerlye loued this mayd.20

till itt beffell vpon a day,

great dill to him was dight;

the maydens loue remoued his mind,

to care bed went the Knight;

& one while he spread his armes him ffroe,25

& cryed soe pittyouslye

"ffor the maydens loue that I haue most minde, this day may comfort mee, or else ere noone I shalbe dead!" thus can Sir Cawline say.30

when our parish masse that itt was done, & our king was bowne to dine, he sayes, "where is Sir Cawline that was wont to serue me with ale and wine?"

but then answered a curteous Knight35 ffast wringinge his hands, "Sir Cawlines sicke, & like to be dead without and a good leedginge."

"ffeitch yee downe my daughter deere,

shee is a Leeche ffull ffine;40

I, and take you doe & the baken bread,

and eene on the wine soe red,

& looke no day[n]tinesse ffor him to deare,

for ffull loth I wold him teene."

this Ladye is gone to his chamber,45

her maydens ffollowing Nye,

"O well," shee sayth, "how doth my Lord?"

"O sicke!" againe saith hee.

"I, but rise vp wightlye, man, for shame:

neuer lye soe cowardlye here!50

itt is told in my ffathers hall,

ffor my loue you will dye."

"itt is ffor your Loue, ffayre Ladye, that all this dill I drye. ffor if you wold comfort me with a Kisse,55 then were I brought ffrom bale to blisse, noe longer here wold I lye."

"alas! soe well you know, Sir Knight, I cannott bee your peere." "ffor some deeds of armes ffaine wold I doe60 to be your Bacheeleere."

"vpon Eldridge hill there growes a thorne

vpon the mores brodinge;

& wold you, Sir Knight, wake there all night to day of the other Morninge?65

"ffor the Eldrige King that is mickle of Might will examine you beforne; & there was neuer man that bare his liffe away since the day that I was borne."

"but I will ffor your sake, ffaire Ladye,70 walke on the bents [soe] browne, & Ile either bring you a readye token or Ile neuer come to you againe."

but this Ladye is gone to her Chamber,

her Maydens ffollowing bright;75

& Sir Cawlins gone to the mores soe broad, ffor to wake there all night.

vnto midnight they Moone did rise,

he walked vp and downe,

& a lightsome bugle then heard he blow80

ouer the bents soe browne.

saies hee, "and if cryance come vntill my hart,

I am ffarr ffrom any good towne;"

& he spyed ene a litle him by,

a ffuryous King and a ffell,85

& a ladye bright his brydle led,

that seemlye itt was to see;

& soe fast hee called vpon Sir Cawline, "Oh man, I redd thee fflye! ffor if cryance come vntill thy hart,90 I am a-feard least thou mun dye."

he sayes, "[no] cryance comes to my hart,

nor ifaith I ffeare not thee;

ffor because thou minged not christ before,

Thee lesse me dreadeth thee."95

but Sir Cawline he shooke a speare, the King was bold, and abode, & the timber these 2 Children bore soe soone in sunder slode, ffor they tooke & 2 good swords,100 & they Layden on good Loade.

but the Elridge King was mickle of might, & stiffly to the ground did stand; but Sir Cawline with an aukeward stroke he brought him ffrom his hand,105 I, & fflying ouer his head soe hye, ffell downe of that Lay land:

& his lady stood a litle thereby,

ffast ringing her hands:

"for they maydens loue that you haue most meed,110 smyte you my Lord no more,

& heest neuer come vpon Eldrige [hill] him to sport, gamon, or play, & to meete noe man of middle earth, & that liues on christs his lay."115

but he then vp, and that Eldryge King sett him in his sadle againe, & that Eldryge King & his Ladye to their castle are they gone.

& hee tooke then vp & that Eldryge sword120 as hard as any fflynt, & soe he did those ringes 5, harder than ffyer, and brent.

ffirst he presented to the Kings daughter they hand, & then they sword.125 "but a serrett buffett you haue him giuen, the King & the crowne!" she sayd, "I, but 34 stripes comen beside the rood."

& a Gyant that was both stiffe [&] strong,130

he lope now them amonge,

& vpon his squier 5 heads he bare,

vnmackley made was hee.

& he dranke then on the Kings wine, & hee put the cup in his sleeue;135 & all thé trembled & were wan ffor feare he shold them greeffe.

"Ile tell thee mine Arrand, King," he sayes, "mine errand what I doe heere; ffor I will bren thy temples hye,140 or Ile haue thy daughter deere; in, or else vpon, yond more soe brood thou shalt ffind mee a ppeare."

the King he turned him round about, (Lord, in his heart he was woe!),145 says, "is there noe Knight of the round table this matter will vndergoe?

"I, & hee shall haue my broad Lands,

& keepe them well his liue;

I, and soe hee shall my daughter deere,150

to be his weded wiffe."

& then stood vp Sir Cawline his owne errand ffor to say. "ifaith, I wold to god, Sir," sayd Sir Cawline, "that Soldan I will assay.155

"goe, ffeitch me downe my Eldrige sword,

ffor I woone itt att [a] ffray."

"but away, away!" sayd the hend Soldan,

"thou tarryest mee here all day!"

but the hend Soldan and Sir Cawline160 thé ffought a summers day: now has hee slaine that hend Soldan, & brought his 5 heads away.

& the King has betaken him his broade lands & all his venison.165

"but take you too & your Lands [soe] broad, & brooke them well your liffe, ffor you promised mee your daughter deere to be my weded wiffe."

"now by my ffaith," then sayes our King,170 "ffor that wee will not striffe; ffor thou shalt haue my daughter dere to be thy weded wiffe."

the other morninge Sir Cawline rose by the dawning of the day,175 & vntill a garden did he goe his Mattins ffor to say; & that bespyed a ffalse steward— a shames death that he might dye!—

& he lett a lyon out of a bande,180

Sir Cawline ffor to teare; & he had noe wepon him vpon, nor noe wepon did weare.

but hee tooke then his Mantle of greene,

into the Lyons mouth itt thrust;185

he held the Lyon soe sore to the wall

till the Lyons hart did burst.

& the watchmen cryed vpon the walls

& sayd, "Sir Cawlines slaine! and with a beast is not ffull litle,190 a Lyon of Mickle mayne." then the Kings daughter shee ffell downe, "for peerlesse is my payne!"

"O peace, my Lady!" sayes Sir Cawline, "I haue bought thy loue ffull deere.195 O peace, my Lady!" sayes Sir Cawline, "peace, Lady, ffor I am heere!"

then he did marry this Kings daughter with gold & siluer bright, & 15 sonnes this Ladye beere200 to Sir Cawline the Knight.

ffins.]