This ballad was greatly added to by Bp. Percy; "King Henrie" (Border Minstrelsy, vol. iii.) turns on the same legend, as does the "Wife of Bath's Tale" in Chaucer. The original is to be found in the Saga of Hrolf Kraka, where Helge, King of Denmark, encounters a similarly "grimme woman."

KING

FYTTE I.

ING Arthur wones in merrye Carlisle
And seemlye ys to see;

And there with him queene Guenever,
That bride soe bright of blee.

And there with him queene Guenever,
That bride so bright in bowre:
And all his barons about him stoode,
That were both stiffe and stowre.

The king a royale Christmasse kept,
With mirth and princelye cheare;
To him repaired many a knighte,
That came both farre and neare.

And when they were to dinner sette,
And cups went freely round:
Before them came a faire damsèlle,
And knelt upon the ground.

A boone, a boone, O kinge Arthure,
I beg a boone of thee;
Avenge me of a carlish' knighte,
Who hath shent my love and mee.

2

At Tearne-Wadling his castle stands,
Near to that lake so fair,

And proudlye rise the battlements,
And streamers deck the air.

Noe gentle knighte, nor ladye gay,
May pass that castle-walle:
But from that foule discurteous knighte,
Mishappe will them befalle.

Churlish, discourteous.

2 Tearne-Wadling is the name of a small lake near Hesketh in Cumberland, on the road from Penrith to Carlisle. There is a tradition that an old castle once stood near the lake, the remains of which were not long since visible.Percy.

Hee's twyce the size of common men,
Wi' thewes, and sinewes stronge,
And on his backe he bears a clubbe,
That is both thicke and longe.

This grimme baròne 'twas our harde happe,
But yester morne to see;

When to his bowre he bare my love,

And sore misused mee.

And when I told him, King Arthure
As lyttle shold him spare;

Goe tell, sayd hee, that boastful kinge,
To meete mee if he dare.

Upp then sterted king Arthure,

And sware by hille and dale,
He ne'er wold quitt that grimme baròne,
Till he had made him quail.

Goe fetch my sword Excalibar:

Goe saddle mee my steede;

Nowe, by my faye, that grimme baròne
Shall rue this ruthfulle deede.

And when he came to Tearne-Wadlinge
Benethe the castle walle:

"Come forth; come forth; thou proude baròne, Or yielde thyselfe my thralle."

On magicke grounde that castle stoode,
And fenc'd with many a spelle:

Noe valiant knighte could tread thereon,
But straite his courage felle.

Forth then rush'd that carlish knight,
King Arthur felte the charme:
His sturdy sinewes lost their strengthe,
Downe sunke his feeble arme.

Nowe yield thee, yield thee, Kinge Arthure,
Now yield thee, unto mee:

Or fighte with mee, or lose thy lande,
Noe better termes maye bee,

Unlesse thou sweare upon the rood,
And promise on thy faye,

Here to returne to Tearne-Wadling,
Upon the new-yeare's daye:

And bringe me worde what thing it is
All women moste desyre:

This is thy ransome, Arthur, he sayes,
Ile have noe other hyre.

King Arthur then helde up his hande,

And sware upon his faye,

Then tooke his leave of the grimme barone,

And faste hee rode awaye.

And he rode east, and he rode west,
And did of all inquyre,

What thing it is all women crave,
And what they most desyre.

Some told him riches, pompe, or state;
Some rayment fine and brighte;
Some told him mirthe; some flatterye,
And some a goodlye knighte.

In letters all king Arthur wrote,
And seal'd them with his ringe:
But still his minde was helde in doubte,
Eache told a different thinge.

As ruthfulle he rode over a more,
He saw a ladye sette

Betweene an oke, and a greene holléye

All clad in red scarlette.

Her nose was crookt and turnd outwarde

Her chin stoode all awrye;

And where as sholde have been her mouthe, Lo! there was set her eye:

Her haires, like serpents, clung aboute
Her cheekes of deadlye hewe:

A worse-form'd ladye than she was,
No man mote ever viewe..