The book of British ballads . And now three days were prestlye past In feates of chivalrye,When lo upon the fourth morninge A sorrowfulle sight they see. A hugye giaunt stiffe and starke, All foule of limbe and lere ;Two goggling eyen like fire farden, A mouthe from eare to eare. Before him came a dwarffe full lowe, That waited on his knee;And at his backe five heads he bare, All wan and pale of blee. 6 Sir, quoth the dwarffe, and louted lowe, Behold that hend Soldain!Behold these heads I beare with me! They are kings which he hath slain. The Eldridge knight is his own cousine, Whom a knight o
The book of British ballads . And now three days were prestlye past In feates of chivalrye,When lo upon the fourth morninge A sorrowfulle sight they see. A hugye giaunt stiffe and starke, All foule of limbe and lere ;Two goggling eyen like fire farden, A mouthe from eare to eare. Before him came a dwarffe full lowe, That waited on his knee;And at his backe five heads he bare, All wan and pale of blee. 6 Sir, quoth the dwarffe, and louted lowe, Behold that hend Soldain!Behold these heads I beare with me! They are kings which he hath slain. The Eldridge knight is his own cousine, Whom a knight of thine hath shent:And hee is come to avenge his wrong,And to thee, all thy knightes among,Defiance here hath sent. But yette he will appease his wrathThy daughters love to winne ; And but thou yeelde him that fayre mayd,Thy halls and towers must brenne. Thy head, sir king, must goe with mee, Or else thy daughter deere;Or else within these lists soe broad Thou must finde him a peere. O. Dalziel sc. 308 If 5 £btr ( The king he turned him round aboute, And in his heart was woe: Is there never a knighte of my round table This matter will undergoe ? Is there never a knighte amongst yee allWill fight for my daughter and mee ? Whoever will fight yon grimme soldan,Right fair his meede shall bee. For hee shall have my broad lay-lands, And of my crowne be heyre ;And he shall winne fayre Christabelle To be his wedded fere. But every knighte of his round table Did stand both still and pale :For whenever they lookt on the grim soldan, It made their hearts to quail. All woe-begone was that fayre ladye,When she sawe no helpe was nye: She cast her thought on her owne true-love,And the teares gusht from her eye. Up then sterte the stranger knighte,Sayd, Ladye, be not affrayd: He fight for thee with this grimme soldan,Thoughe he be unmacklye made. And if thou wilt lend me the EldridgeThat lyeth within thy bowre, [sworde, I trust in Christe for to slay this fiende,Thoughe he be stiffe
Size: 1086px × 2302px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, bookidg, bookpublisherlondonjhow
