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Her lovely lord she found
Lye slaine upon the ground,

Smear'd with gore a ghastlye streame.
Which his lady spying,
Shricking, fainting, crying,

Her sorrows could not uttered bee :
Fate, she cryed, too cruell :
For thee - my dearest jewell,

Would God! that I had dyed for thee.




His pale lippes, alas !

Twentye tir es she kissed, And his face did wash

With her trickling teares : Every gaping wound

Tenderlye she pressed, And did wipe it round

With her golden haires.
Speake, faire love, quoth shee,
Speake, faire prince, to mee,

One sweete word of comfort give :
Lift up thy deare eyes,
Listen to my cryes,

Thinke in what sad griefe I live.
All In vaine she sued,
All in vaine she wooed,

The prince's life was fled and gone.
There stood she still mourning,
Till the suns retourning,

And bright day was coming on.



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In this great distresse

Weeping, wayling ever, Oft shee cryed, alas !

What will become of mee? To my fathers court

I returne will never :
But in lowlye sort

I will a servant bee.
While thus she made her mone,
Weeping all alone,

In this deepe and deadlye feare:
A for’ster all in greene,
Most comelye to be seene,

Ranging the woods did find her there.
Moved with her sorrowe,
Maid, quoth hee, good morrowe,

What hard happ has brought thee here?
Harder happ did never
Two kinde hearts dissever:

Here lyes slaine my brother deare.



Where may I remaine,

Gentle for’ster, shew me, 'Till I can obtaine

A service in my neede ? Paines I will not spare :

This kinde favour doe mee, It will ease my care ;

Heaven shall be thy meede.


The 150

The for'ster all amazed,
On her beautye gazed,

Till his heart was set on fire.
If, faire maid, quoth hee,
You will gne


You shall have your hearts desire,
He brought her to his mother,
And above all other

He sett forth this maidens praise.
Long was his heart inflamed,
At length her love he gained,

And fortune crown'd his future dayes.



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Thus unknowne he wedde

With a kings faire daughter :
Children seven they had,

Ere she told her birth.
Which when once he knew,

Humblye he besought her,
He to the world might shew

Her rank and princelye worth.
He cloath'd his children then,
(Not like other men)

In partye-colours strange to see :
The right side cloth of gold,
The left side to behold,

Of woollen cloth still framed hee*.


* This will remind the reader of the livery and device of Charles Brandon, a private gentleman, who married the


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Men thereatt did wonder

Golden fame did thunder

This strange deede in every place :
The king of France came thither,
It being pleasant weather,

In those woods the hart to chase,



The children then they bring,

So their mother will'd it,
Where the royall king

Must of force come bye :
Their mothers riche array,

Was of crimson velvet :
Their fathers all of gray,

Seemelye to the eye.
Then this famous king,
Noting every thing,

Askt how he durst be so bold
To let his wife soe weare,
And decke his children there

In costly robes of pearl and gold.



Queen Dowager of France, sister of Henry VIII. At a tournament which he held at his wedding, the trappings of his horse were half cloth of gold, and half frieze, with the following motto:

“ Cloth of Gold, do not despise,
“ Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Frize;
“ Cloth of Frize, be not too bold,

Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Gold.” See Sir W. Temple's Misc. vol. III. p. 356.



The forrester replying,
And the cause descrying*,

To the king these words did say,
Well may they, by their mother,
Weare rich clothes with other,

Being by birth a princesse gay.




The king aroused thus,

More heedfullye beheld them, Till a crimson blush

His remembrance crost. The more I fix my mind

On thy wife and children,
The more methinks I find

The daughter which I lost.
Falling on her knee,
I am that child, quoth shee;

Pardon mee, my soveraine liege.
The king perceiving this,
His daughter deare did kiss,

While joyfull teares did stopp his speeche.
With his traine he tourned,
And with them sojourned.

Strait he dubb’d her husband knight ;
Then made him erle of Flanders,
And chiefe of his commanders :

Thus were their sorrowes put to flight.




* i.e. describing. See Gloss.

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