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poems of his compofing. Here he will fee him mixing in the company of kings without ceremony: no mean proof of the great antiquity of this poem. The farther we carry our inquiries back, the greater respect we find paid to the profeffors of poetry and mufic among all the Celtic and Gothic nations. Their character was deemed fo facred, that under its fanction our famous king Alfred (as we have already feen §) made no fcruple to enter the Danish camp, and was at once admitted to the king's head-quarters*. Our post has fuggefted the fame expedient to the heroes of this ballad. All the hiftories of the North are full of the great reverence paid to this order of men. Harold Harfagre, a celebrated' king of Norway, was wont to feat them at his table above all the officers of his court: and we find another Norwegian king placing five of them by his fide in a day of battle, that they might be eye-witnesses of the great exploits they were to celebrate .As to Eftmere's riding into the hall while the kings were at table, this was ufual in the ages of chivalry; and even to this day we fee a relic of this custom still kept up, in the champion's riding into Westminster-hall during the coronation dinner ‡.

Earken to me, gentlemen,

HE

Come and you shall heare;

Ile tell you of two of the boldest brethren,

That ever born y-were.

The tone of them was Adler yonge,

The tother was kyng Eftmere ;

See the Effay on the ancient Minstrels prefixed to this Vol.

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The

Even fo late as the time of Froiffart, we find Minstrels and Heralds mentioned together, as those who might fecurely go into an enemy's country. Cap. cxl.

t Bartholini Antiq. Dan. p. 173.Defcript. of the anc. Danes, Vol. 1. p. 386. 389. &c.

See also the account of Edw. II. in the Effay on the Mnftrels.

The were as bolde men in their deedes,
As any were farr and neare.

As they were drinking ale and wine
Within kyng Eftmeres halle:
When will ye marry a wyfe, brother,
A wyfe to gladd us all ?

Then befpake him kyng Estmere,

And answered him hastilee :

I knowe not that ladye in any lande,
That is able to marry with mee.

Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother,
Men call her bright and sheene;

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Sayes, Reade me, reade me, deare brother,

Throughout merrye England,

Where we might find a meffenger

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Nowe Chrift thee fave, good king Adlànd;

Nowe Chrift thee fave and fee.

Sayd, You be welcome, king Eftmere,

Right hartilye unto mee.

You have a daughter, fayd Adler yonge,
Men call her bright and fheene,
My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe,
Of Englande to be queene.

Yesterdaye was at my deare daughter

Syr Bremor the kyng of Spayne;
And then the nicked him of naye,
I feare fheele do youe the fame.

The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynìm,
And 'leeveth on Mahound;

And pitye it were that fayre ladyè

Shold marrye a heathen hound.

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But

But grant to me, fayes kyng Eftmere,
For my love I you praye;

That I may fee your daughter deare
Before I goe hence awaye.

Althoughe itt is seven yeare and more
Syth my daughter was in halle,
She fhall come downe once for your
To glad my gueftès alle.

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Downe then came that mayden fayre,
With ladyes lacede in pall,

And halfe a hondred of bolde knightes,

To bring her from bowre to hall;

And eke as manye gentle fquieres,

To waite upon them all.

The talents of golde, were on her head fette,
Hunge lowe downe to her knee ;

And everye rynge on her fmalle fingèr,

Shone of the chrystall free.

Sayes, Chrift you fave, my deare madàme;

Sayes, Chrift you fave and fee.

Sayes, You be welcome, kyng Eftmere,

Right welcome unto mee.

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And iff you love me, as you faye,

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So well and hartilèe,

All

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Then bespake her father deare:

My daughter, 1 faye naye;

Remember well the kyng of Spayne,

What he fayd yesterdaye.

He wold pull downe my halles and castles,

And reave me of my lyfe :

And ever I feare that paynim kyng,

Iff I reave him of his wyfe.

Your caftles and your towres, father,
Are stronglye built aboute

;

And therefore of that foule paynìm

Wee neede not ftande in doubte.

Plyght me your troth, nowe, kyng Eftmère,

By heaven and your righte hand,

That you will marrye me to your wyfe,
And make me queene of your land.

Then kyng Eftmere he plight his troth
By heaven and his righte hand,

That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe,
And make her queene of his land.

And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre,

To goe to his owne countree,

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