The lady is gone to her own chaumbère,
Her maydens following bright:
Syr Cauline lope from care-bed soone,
And to the Eldridge hills is gone,
For to wake there all night.

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Unto midnight, that the moone did rise,

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He walked up and downe;

Then a lightsome bugle heard he blowe

Over the bents soe browne;

Quoth hee, 'If cryance come till my heart,
I am ffar from any good towne.'

And soone he spyde on the mores so broad,
A furyous wight and fell;

A ladye bright his brydle led,

Clad in a fayre kyrtèll:

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And soe fast he called on syr Cauline,

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'O man, I rede thee flye,

For [but] if cryance comes till my heart,

I weene but thou mun dye.'

He sayth '[No] cryance comes till my heart,
Nor, in faith, I wyll not flee;

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For, cause thou minged 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,

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And the timber these two children bare 1

Soe soone in sunder slode,

1i.e. Knights. See the Preface to Child Waters, vol. IIL

Then tooke they out theyr two good swordes,

And layden on full faste,

Till helme and hawberke, mail and sheelde,
They all were well-nye brast.

The Eldridge knight was mickle of might,
And stiffe in stower did stande,

But syr Cauline with a [backward] stroke,

He smote off his right hand;

That soone he with paine and lacke of bloud

Fell downe on that lay-land.

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110

Then up syr Cauline lift his brande

All over his head so hye:

'And here I sweare by the holy roode, Nowe, caytiffe, thou shalt dye.'

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Then up and came that ladye brighte,

Fast wringing of her hande:

For the maydens love, that most you love,
Withold that deadlye brande:

For the maydens love, that most you love,
Now smyte no more I praye;

And

aye whatever thou wilt, my lord,

He shall thy hests obaye.'

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'Now sweare to me, thou Eldridge knighte,

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And here on this lay-land,

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

And that thou never on Eldridge come

To sporte, gamon, or playe:

Ver. 109, aukeward, MS.

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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,

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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.

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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.

Then he tooke up the Eldridge sworde,

As hard as any flint:

And he took off those ringès five,
As bright as fyre and brent.

Home then pricked syr Cauline

As light as leafe on tree:

I-wys he neither stint ne blanne,
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: These tokens I bring away.'

'Now welcome, welcome, syr Cauline,

Thrice welcome unto mee,

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150

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For now I perceive thou art a true knighte,
Of valour bolde and free.'

'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,

And fette a gentill sighe:

'Alas! syr knyght, how may this bee,

For my degree's soe highe?

But sith thou hast hight, thou comely youth,

To be my batchilere,

Ile promise if thee I may not wedde

I will have none other fere.’

Then shee held forthe her lilly-white hand

Towards that knighte so free;

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165

170

He gave to it one gentill kisse,

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His heart was brought from bale to blisse,

The teares sterte from his ee.

'But keep my counsayl, syr Caulìne, Ne let no man it knowe;

For and ever my father sholde it ken,

I wot he wolde us sloe.'

From that daye forthe that ladye fayre
Lovde syr Caulìine the knighte:
From that daye forthe he only joyde

Whan shee was in his sight.

Yea and oftentimes they mette
Within a fayre arbòure,

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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.

PART THE SECOND.

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 Cauline

Was with that ladye faire,

The kinge her father walked forthe

To take the evenyng aire:

And into the arboure as he went

5

To rest his wearye feet,

10

He found his daughter and syr Cauline

There sette in daliaunce sweet.

The kinge hee sterted forthe, I-wys,

And an angrye man was hee:

Nowe, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe,

15

And rewe shall thy ladie.'

Then forthe syr Cauline he was ledde,

And throwne in dungeon deepe: