Her nose is crookt and turn'd outwàrde;

Her chin stands all awrye;

A worse form'd ladye than shee is
Was never seen with eye.'

'What though her chin stand all awrye,

And shee be foule to see?

I'll marry her, unkle, for thy sake,

And I'll thy ransome bee.'

30

35

'Nowe thankes, now thankes, good sir Gawàine; And a blessing thee betyde!

To-morrow wee 'll have knights and squires,

And wee'll goe fetch thy bride.

40

And wee'll have hawkes and wee'll have houndes,

To cover our intent;

And wee'll away to the greene forèst,
As wee a hunting went.'

Sir Lancelot, sir Stephen bolde,

They rode with them that daye;,

And foremoste of the companye
There rode the stewarde Kaye:

Soe did sir Banier and sir Bore,

And eke sir Garratte keene;
Sir Tristram too, that gentle knight,
To the forest freshe and greene.

And when they came to the greene forrèst,
Beneathe a faire holley tree

There sate that ladye in red scarlètte

That unseemelye was to see.

45

50

Sir Kay beheld that lady's face,
And looked upon her sweere;
"Whoever kisses that ladye,' he sayes,

'Of his kisse he stands in feare.'

Sir Kay beheld that ladye againe,
And looked upon her snout;
"Whoever kisses that ladye,' he sayes,
Of his kisse he stands in doubt.'

'Peace, brother Kay,' sayde sir Gawàine,
'And amend thee of thy life:

For there is a knight amongst us all,
Must marry her to his wife.'

'What! marry this foule queane,' quoth Kay,

'I' the devil's name anone;

Gett mee a wife wherever I maye,

In sooth shee shall be none.'

Then some tooke up their hawkes in haste,

And some took up their houndes; And sayd they wolde not marry her,

For cities, nor for townes.

Then bespake him king Arthure,

And sware there by this daye;

For a little foule sighte and mislikinge,
Yee shall not say her naye.'

'Peace, lordlings, peace;' sir Gawaine sayd;

'Nor make debate and strife;

This lothlye ladye I will take,

And marry her to my wife.'

60

65

70

75

80

'Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawàine.

And a blessinge be thy meede!

For as I am thine own ladyè,
Thou never shalt rue this deede.'

Then up they took that lothly dame,
And home anone they bringe:
And there sir Gawaine he her wed,
And married her with a ringe.

86

90

And when they were in wed-bed laid,

And all were done awaye:

'Come turne to mee, mine owne wed-lord Come turne to mee I praye.'

95

Sir Gawaine scant could lift his head,

For sorrowe and for care;

When, lo! instead of that lothelye dame,
Hee sawe a young ladye faire.

Sweet blushes stayn'd her rud-red cheeke,
Her eyen were blacke as sloe:
The ripening cherrye swellde her lippe,
And all her necke was snowe.

Sir Gawaine kiss'd that lady faire,
Lying upon the sheete:

And swore, as he was a true knighte,
The spice was never soe sweete.

Sir Gawaine kiss'd that lady brighte,
Lying there by his side:

The fairest flower is not soe faire:
Thou never can'st bee my bride.'

100

105

11)

'I am thy bride, mine owne deare lorde,

The same whiche thou didst knowe, That was soe lothlye, and was wont Upon the wild more to goe.

Nowe, gentle Gawaine, chuse,' quoth shee,

6

And make thy choice with care;

Whether by night, or else by daye,

Shall I be foule or faire?'

To have thee foule still in the night,
When I with thee should playe!

I had rather farre, my lady deare,
To have thee foule by daye.'

115

120

'What! when gaye ladyes goe with their lordes 125 To drinke the ale and wine;

Alas! then I must hide myself,
I must not goe with mine!'

'My faire ladyè,' sir Gawaine sayd, 'I yield me to thy skille; Because thou art mine owne ladyè Thou shalt have all thy wille.'

'Nowe blessed be thou, sweete Gawàine, And the daye that I thee see;

For as thou seest mee at this time,

130

135

Soe shall I ever bee.

My father was an aged knighte,

And yet it chanced soe,

He tooke to wife a false ladyè,
Whiche broughte me to this woe.

140

Shee witch'd mee, being a faire yonge maide,

In the greene forèst to dwelle;

And there to abide in lothlye shape,

Most like a fiend of helle.

Midst mores and mosses, woods, and wilds,

145

To lead a lonesome life:

Till some yong faire and courtlye knighte
Wolde marrye me to his wife:

Nor fully to gaine mine owne trewe shape,
Such was her devilish skille;
Until he wolde yielde to be rul'd by mee,

And let mee have all my wille.

She witchd my brother to a carlish boore,
And made him stiffe and stronge;

150

And built him a bowre on magicke grounde, 155
To live by rapine and wronge.

But now the spelle is broken throughe,
And wronge is turnde to righte;
Henceforth I shall bee a faire ladyè,
And hee be a gentle knighte.'

160

III.

KING RYENCE'S CHALLENGE.

This song is more modern than many of those which follow it, but is placed here for the sake of the subject. It was sung before queen Elizabeth at the grand entertainment at Kenilworth-castle in 1575, and was probably composed for that occasion. In a letter describing those festivities, it is thus mentioned: A Minstral came forth with a sollem song, warranted for story out of K. Arthur's acts, whereof I gat a copy, and is this:

"So it fell out on a Pentecost, &c."'