Читать книгу The Ancient English Poetry - Various Authors - Страница 32

In Ireland, ferr over the sea,

There dwelleth a bonnye kinge;

And with him a yong and comlye knighte,

Men call him syr Caulìne.

The kinge had a ladye to his daughter,5

In fashyon she hath no peere;

And princely wightes that ladye wooed

To be theyr wedded feere.337]

Syr Cauline loveth her best of all,

But nothing durst he saye;10

Ne descreeve338 his counsayl to no man, But deerlye he lovde this may.339

Till on a daye it so beffell,

Great dill340 to him was dight;341 The maydens love removde his mynd,15 To care-bed went the knighte.

One while he spred his armes him fro,

One while he spred them nye:

And aye! but I winne that ladyes love,

For dole342 now I mun343 dye.20

And whan our parish-masse was done,

Our kinge was bowne344 to dyne: He sayes, Where is syr Cauline, That is wont to serve the wyne?

Then aunswerde him a courteous knighte,25

And fast his handes gan wringe:

Sir Cauline is sicke, and like to dye

Without a good leechìnge.345

Fetche me downe my daughter deere,

She is a leeche fulle fine:30

Goe take him doughe,346 and the baken bread, And serve him with the wyne soe red; Lothe I were him to tine.347

Fair Christabelle to his chaumber goes,

Her maydens followyng nye:35

O well, she sayth, how doth my lord?

O sicke, thou fayr ladyè.

Nowe ryse up wightlye,348 man, for shame, Never lye soe cowardlee; For it is told in my fathers halle,40 You dye for love of mee.

Fayre ladye, it is for your love

That all this dill I drye:349 For if you wold comfort me with a kisse, Then were I brought from bale to blisse,45 No lenger wold I lye.

Sir knighte, my father is a kinge,

I am his onlye heire;

Alas! and well you knowe, syr knighte,

I never can be youre fere.50

O ladye, thou art a kinges daughtèr,

And I am not thy peere,

But let me doe some deedes of armes

To be your bacheleere.350

Some deedes of armes if thou wilt doe,55

My bacheleere to bee,

(But ever and aye my heart wold rue,

Giff351 harm shold happe to thee,)]

Upon Eldridge352 hill there groweth a thorne, Upon the mores brodinge;35360 And dare ye, syr knighte, wake there all nighte Until the fayre mornìnge?

For the Eldridge knighte, so mickle354 of mighte, Will examine you beforne:355 And never man bare life awaye,65 But he did him scath356 and scorne.

That knighte he is a foul paynìm,357 And large of limb and bone; And but if heaven may be thy speede, Thy life it is but gone.70

Nowe on the Eldridge hilles Ile walke,358 For thy sake, fair ladìe;] And He either bring you a ready tokèn, Or He never more you see

The lady is gone to her own chaumbère,75

Her maydens following bright:

Syr Cauline lope359 from care-bed soone, And to the Eldridge hills is gone,] For to wake there all night.

Unto midnight, that the moone did rise,80

He walked up and downe;

Then a lightsome bugle heard he blowe

Over the bents360 soe browne; Quoth hee, If cryance come till361 my heart, I am ffar from any good towne.85

And soone he spyde on the mores so broad,

A furyous wight and fell;362 A ladye bright his brydle led, Clad in a fayre kyrtèll: And soe fast he called on syr Caulìne,90 O man, I rede363 thee flye, For 'but' if cryance comes till thy heart, I weene but thou mun dye.

He sayth, 'No' cryance comes till my heart,

Nor, in faith, I wyll not flee;95

For, cause thou minged364 not Christ before, The less me dreadeth thee.

The Eldridge knighte, he pricked his steed;

Syr Cauline bold abode:

Then either shooke his trustye speare,]100

And the timber these two children365 bare Soe soone in sunder slode.366

Then tooke they out theyr two good swordes,

And layden367 on full faste, Till helme and hawberke, mail and sheelde,105 They all were well-nye brast.368]

The Eldridge knight was mickle of might,

And stiffe in stower369 did stande, But syr Cauline with a 'backward' stroke,370 He smote off his right hand;110 That soone he with paine and lacke of bloud Fell downe on that lay-land.371

Then up syr Cauline lift his brande

All over his head so hye:

And here I sweare by the holy roode,115

Nowe, caytiffe, thou shalt dye.

Then up and came that ladye brighte,

Fast wringing of her hande:

For the maydens love, that most you love,

Withold that deadlye brande:120

For the maydens love, that most you love,

Now smyte no more I praye;

And aye whatever thou wilt, my lord,

He shall thy hests372 obaye.

Now sweare to mee, thou Eldridge knighte,125

And here on this lay-land,

That thou wilt believe on Christ his laye,373 And therto plight thy hand:

And that thou never on Eldridge come

To sporte, gamon,374 or playe:130 And that thou here give up thy armes Until thy dying daye.

The Eldridge knighte gave up his armes

With many a sorrowfulle sighe;

And sware to obey syr Caulines hest,135

Till the tyme that he shold dye.]

And he then up and the Eldridge knighte

Sett him in his saddle anone,

And the Eldridge knighte and his ladye

To theyr castle are they gone.140

Then he tooke up the bloudy hand,

That was so large of bone,

And on it he founde five ringes of gold

Of knightes that had be slone.375

Then he tooke up the Eldridge sworde,145

As hard as any flint:

And he tooke off those ringès five,

As bright as fyre and brent.

Home then pricked376 syr Cauline As light as leafe on tree:150 I-wys he neither stint ne blanne,377 Till he his ladye see.

Then downe he knelt upon his knee

Before that lady gay:

O ladye, I have bin on the Eldridge hills:155

These tokens I bring away.

Now welcome, welcome, syr Caulìne,

Thrice welcome unto mee,

For now I perceive thou art a true knighte,

Of valour bolde and free.160

O ladye, I am thy own true knighte,

Thy hests for to obaye:

And mought I hope to winne thy love!—

Ne more his tonge colde say.

The ladye blushed scarlette redde,165

And fette378 a gentill sighe: Alas! syr knight, how may this bee, For my degree's soe highe?

But sith thou hast hight,379 thou comely youth, To be my batchilere,170 Ile promise if thee I may not wedde I will have none other fere.380

Then shee held forthe her lilly-white hand

Towards that knighte so free;

He gave to it one gentill kisse,175

His heart was brought from bale to blisse,

The teares sterte381 from his ee.

But keep my counsayl, syr Caulìne,

Ne let no man it knowe;

For and ever my father sholde it ken,180

I wot he wolde us sloe.382

From that daye forthe that ladye fayre

Lovde syr Caulìne the knighte:

From that daye forthe he only joyde

Whan shee was in his sight.185

Yea and oftentimes they mette

Within a fayre arbòure,

Where they in love and sweet daliaunce

Past manye a pleasaunt houre.]

⁂ In this conclusion of the First Part, and at the beginning of the Second, the reader will observe a resemblance to the story of Sigismunda and Guiscard, as told by Boccace and Dryden. See the latter's description of the lovers meeting in the cave; and those beautiful lines, which contain a reflection so like this of our poet, "everye white," &c., viz.:

"But as extremes are short of ill and good,

And tides at highest mark regorge their flood;

So Fate, that could no more improve their joy,

Took a malicious pleasure to destroy

Tancred, who fondly loved," &c.