Thou art a fayre man and a hende, Ful wel I wot he wil chese the: For with me I rede the wende." For thei in place wille have no rest. Fytte EE. 6 "Fare wel, Thomas, I wend may, "Gif me sum tokyn, lady gay, That I may say I spake with the." 1 The Lincoln MS. reads, "fro hethyne," which seems more correct. 2 So in the MS., which Jamieson properly corrects to ther. 3 "My fawkone."-Lincoln MS. 4"An earlis praye."-Lincoln MS. 5 "Alle of."-Lincoln MS. 6 So in the MS. for "my waye," as in the Lincoln and Lansdowne MSS. H and the flame flashing through the vault, gleamed on a throng of hideous and ghastly features, that now came forward through the smoke. Sir Gawen, with the desperate valour of a man who sees destruction before him, ran furious forward. An universal shriek burst forth. The corse dropped into the fire, which, rising with tenfold brilliance, placed full in view the dreadful form of his infernal guide, dilated into horror itself. Her face was pale as death, her eyes were wide open, dead, and fixed; a horrible grin sat upon her features; her lips black, and half putrid, were drawn back, disclosing a set of large blue teeth, and her hair, standing stiffly erect, was of a withered red. Sir Gawen felt his blood freeze within him, his limbs forgot to move, the face, enlarging as it came, drew near, and swooning, he fell forward on the ground. Slow passed the vital fluid through the bosom of Sir Gawen, scarce did the heart vibrate to its impulse; on his pallid forehead sat a chilly sweat, and frequent spasms shook his limbs; but at length returning warmth gave some vigour to his frame, the energy of life became more suffused, a soothing languor stole upon him, and on opening his eyes, rushed neither the images of death or the rites of witchcraft, but the soft, the sweet and tranquil scenery of a summer's moonlight night. Enraptured with this sudden and unexpected change Sir Gawen rose gently from off the ground; over his head towered a large and majestic oak, at whose foot, by some kind and compassionate being, he concluded he had been laid. Delight and gratitude dilated his heart, and advancing from beneath the tree, whose gigantic branches spread a large extent of shade, a vale, beautiful and romantic, through which ran a clear and deep stream, came full in view; he walked to the edge of the water, the moon shone with mellow lustre on its surface, and its banks fringed with shrubs, breathed a perfume more delicate than the odours of the East. On one side, the ground, covered with a vivid, soft, and downy verdure, stretched for a considerable extent to the borders of a large forest, which, sweeping round, finally closed up the valley; on the other, it was broken into abrupt and rocky masses swarded with moss, and from whose clefts grew thick and spreading trees, the roots of which, washed by many a fall of water, hung bare and matted from their craggy beds. Sir Gawen forgot, in this delicious vale, all his former sufferings, and giving up his mind to the pleasing influence of curiosity and wonder, he determined to explore the place by tracing the windings of the stream. Scarce had he entered upon this plan when music of the most ravishing sweetness filled the air; sometimes it seemed to float along the valley, sometimes it stole along the surface of the water now it died away among the woods, and now with deep and mellow symphony it swelled upon the gale. Fixed in astonishment Sir Gawen scarce ventured to breathe; every sense, save that of hearing, seemed quite absorbed, and when the last faint warblings melted on his ear he started from the spot, solicitous to know from what being those more than human strains had parted, but nothing appeared in view. The moon, full and unclouded, shone with unusual lustre, the white rocks glittered in her beam, and filled with hope he again pursued the windings of the water, which conducting to the narrowest part of the valley, continued their course through the wood. Sir Gawen entered by a path, smooth, but narrow and perplexed, where, although its branches were so numerous that no preference could be given, or any pour the planetary dew, from Hecate's dread agents, it will free thee from wildering fear and gloomy superstition." She ended, and Sir Gawen, impatient to express his gratitude, was about to speak, when suddenly the light turned pale and died away, the spirits fled, and music soft and sweet was heard remotely in the air. Sir Gawen started, and in place of the refulgent scene of magic, he beheld a public road, his horse cropping the grass which grew upon its edge, and a village at a little distance, on whose spire the rising sun had shed his earliest beams. S HAKESPEARE probably took the name of Oberon from this early French romance, which was translated into English about 1540 by Lord Berners, at the request of the Earl of Huntingdon. It is mentioned among Captain Cox's book's, Laneham's Letter, 1575, and in Markham's "health to the gentlemanly profession of Serving-men," 1598; but the earliest edition of the English translation now known to exist in a perfect state bears date in 1601, "being now the third time imprinted, and the rude English corrected and amended." From this edition the following extracts are made, which are curious as being probably the work in which Shakespeare had read of Oberon and fairy land, and reconciled him to transporting his native fairy creed so far towards the magic regions of the East. CHAP. 20.-How Huon of Bourdeaux departed from Brandis, and Garyn his uncle with him; and how he came to Jerusalem, and from thence into the deserts, whereas he found Gerames, and of their conference. When Huon and Garyn were entred into their |