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The Warriage 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,
That bride soe bright of blee.

And there with him queene Guenever,

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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 fair 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.

At Tearne-Wadling1 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-wall:

But from that foule discurteous knighte,
Mishappe will them befalle.

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

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1 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.

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As lyttle shold him spare;

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

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Upp then sterted king Arthure,

And sware by hille and dale,

He ne'er wolde quitt that grimme baròne,
Till he had made him quail.

Goe fetch my sword Excalibar:
Goe saddle mee my steede;

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

And when he came to Tearne Wadlinge

Benethe the castle walle:

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"Come forth; come forth; thou proude baròne,

Or yielde thyself 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.

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Forth then rush'd that carlish knight,

King Arthur felte the charme:

His sturdy sinewes lost their strengthe,

Downe sunke his feeble arme:

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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:

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

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Some told him riches, pompe, or state;
Some rayment fine and brighte;

Some told him mirthe; some flatterye;

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He saw a ladye sette

Betweene an oke, and a greene holléye,

All clad in red 2 scarlette.

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2 This was a common phrase in our old writers; so Chaucer, in his Prologue to the Cant. Tales, says of the Wife of Bath:

Her hosen were of fyne scarlet red.

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:

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

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What wight art thou, the ladye sayd,
That wilt not speake to mee;

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The secrette then the ladye told,

As lightlye well shee cou'de.

Now this shall be my paye, sir king,

And this my guerdon bee,

That some yong fair and courtlye knight,

Thou bringe to marrye mee.

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