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What tongue can paint lord Albret's woe,
The bitter tears he shed,
To find his lady dead ?
New sorrowe seiz'd the damsells all :
At length they faultering say; “ Alas! my lord, how shall we tell?
Thy son is stoln away.
« Fair as the sweetest flower of spring,
« Such was his infant mien : " And on his little body stampt
- Three wonderous marks were seen:
- A blood-red cross was on his arm ;
“A dragon on his breast : “A little garter all of gold
" Was round his leg exprest.
* Three carefull nurses we provide
“ Our little lord to keep : “ One gave him sucke, one gave
him food, “ And one did lull to sleep.
" But lo! all in the dead of night,
“ We heard a fearful sound: “ Loud thunder clapt; the castle shook;
“ And lightning flasht around.
“ Dead with affright at first we lay ;
“ But rousing up anon, “ We ran to see our little lord:
o Our little lord was gone!
“ But how or where we could not tell ;
“For lying on the ground, “ In deep and magic slumbers laid,
“ The nurses there we found.”
O grief on grief! lord Albret said:
No more his tongue cou'd say, When falling in a deadly swoone,
Long time he lifeless lay.
At length restor'd to life and sense
He nourisht endless woe,
No future comfort know.
So withers on the mountain top
A fair and stately oake,
By some rude thunder-stroke,
At length his castle irksome grew,
He loathes his wonted home; His native country he forsakes,
In foreign lands to roaine.
and downe he wandered far, Clad in a palmer's gown: Till his brown locks grew white as wool,
His beard as thistle down.
At length, all wearied, down in death
He laid his reverend head. Meantinie amid the lonely wilds
His little son was bred.
There the weïrd lady of the woods
Had borne him far away,
And every martial play,
ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON.
The following ballad is given (with some corrections) from two ancient black-letter copies in the Pepys Collection : one of which is in 12mo, the other in folio.
And of the sack of stately Troy,
Which was sir Paris' only joy :
Against the Sarazens so rude
Fought he full long and many a day;
In honour of the Christian way:
Now, as the story plain doth tell,
Within that countrey there did rest
Whereby they were full sore opprest:
The grief whereof did grow so great
Throughout the liinits of thie land, That they their wise-men did intreat
To shew their cunning out of hand; What way they might this fiend destroy, That did the countrey thus annoy.
The wise-mien all before the king
25 This answer fram'd incontinent; The dragon none to death might bring
By any means they could invent: His skin more hard than brass was found, That sword nor spear could pierce nor wound. 30
When this the people understood,
They cryed out most piteouslye, The dragon's breath infects their blood,
That every day in heaps they dye: Among them such a plague it bred, The living scarce could bury the dead.
No means there were, as they could hear,
For to appease the dragon's rage,
Whose blood his fury might asswage ;