Nowe, as you are mine unkle deare, And as you prize your life, this daye For sir Launcelot is nowe in Fraunce, The kinge then call'd his nobles all, 10 15 20 His nobles all this counsayle gave, That earlye in the morning, hee Shold send awaye an herauld at armes, To aske a parley faire and free. Then twelve good knightes king Arthur chose, 25 To parley with the foe in field, And make with him agreement faire. The king he charged all his hoste, 30 For he durste not his unkle truste, But when they were together mette, And both to faire accordance broughte; And a month's league betweene them sette, An addere crept forth of a bushe, Stunge one o' th' king's knightes on the knee: When the knighte found him wounded sore, For when the two hostes sawe the sworde, Till of soe manye noble knightes, And when the king beheld his knightes, 70 Ver. 41, 42, the folio MS. reads father.... sonne. The teares fast trickled downe his face; Nowe reste yee all, brave knights, he said, Most loyal have yee been to mee, 75 O staye, my liege, then sayd the duke; 85 Remember what the vision spake, Nor meete your foe, if it may bee. O, staye mee not, thou worthye wight, 90 Betide me life, betide me death, I will avenge them of their foe. To see this good knight here be slaine, 100 He put his speare into his reste, Sir Mordred lifted up his sworde, And fierce to meet the king ran hee: The king his speare he through him thrust; 105 When Mordered felt the stroke of death, 110 And strucke the king a deadlye blowe. Then grimmlye dyed sir Mordered, And bloody streames ranne from the kinge 115 For here, henceforth, benethe this tree, 125 And fare thee well, thou trustye sword, With this good fauchion in my hande, Oft have I reapd the bloody feelde: 2 More commonly called Caliburn. In the folio MS. Escalberd. 130 But nowe the fatalle houre is come, Who sayd, Sir Lukyn, what did yee see? Nothing my liege, save that the winde Who sayde, Sir Lukyn, sawe ye oughte? Nothinge, my liege, save that the winde 155 Nowe with the angrye waters fought. O Lukyn, Lukyn, said the kinge, Twice haste thou dealt deceytfullye: Alacke, whom may wee ever truste, When suche a knighte soe false can bee? 160 |