II. THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE Is chiefly taken from the fragment of an old ballad in the Editor's MS. which he has reason to believe more ancient than the time of CHAUCER, and what furnished that bard with his Wife of Bath's Tale. The original was so extremely mutilated, half of every leaf being torn away, that without large supplements, &c. it was deemed improper for this collection: these it has therefore received, such as they are. They are not here particularly pointed out, because the FRAGMENT itself will now be found printed at the end of this volume. PART THE FIRST. KING Arthur lives in merry Carleile, And seemely is to see; And there with him queene Guenever, And there with him queene Guenever, The king a royale Christmasse kept, To him repaired many a knighte, That came both farre and neare. And 10 5 And when they were to dinner sette, And knelt upon the ground. A boone, a boone, O kinge Arthùre, Avenge me of a carlish knighte, Who hath shent my love and mee. At Tearne-Wadling* his castle stands, And proudlye rise the battlements, And streamers deck the air. 15 20 Noe gentle knighte, nor ladye gay, 25 May pass that castle-walle : But from that foule discurteous knighte, Mishappe will them befalle. Hee's twyce the size of common men, Wi' thewes, and sinewes stronge, And on his backe he bears a clubbe, 30 * 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. Tearn, in the dialect of that country, signifies a small lake, and is still in use. This grimme baròne 'twas our harde happe, But yester morne to see; When to his bowre he bare my love, And sore misused mee. 35 As lyttle shold him spare ; And when I told him, king Arthure Goe tell, sayd hee, that cuckold kinge, 40 To meete mee if he dare. Upp then sterted king Arthùre, And sware by hille and dale, He ne'er wolde quitt that grimme bardne, Till he had made him quail. "Come forth; come forth; thou proude bardne, Or yielde thyself my thralle." On magicke grounde that castle stoode, And fenc'd with many a spelle: Noe valiant knighte could tread thereon, 55 1 Forth Forth then rush'd that carlish knight, His sturdy sinewes lost their strengthe, Nowe yield thee, yield thee, kinge Arthùre, Now yield thee, unto mee: Or fighte with mee, or lose thy lande, 60 Unlesse thou sweare upon the rood, 65 And promise on thy faye, And bringe me worde what thing it is 70 This is thy ransome, Arthur, he sayes, 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. 80 Some |