O LUSTY MAY

Then Aurora that is so bright,
To woful hearts she casts great light
Right pleasantly before the day,

And shows and sheds forth of that light,
Through gladness of this lusty May.

Birds on their boughs of every sort
Send forth their notes, and make great mirth
On banks that bloom and every brae,
And fare and flee ower every firth,
Through gladness of this lusty May.

King Arthur's Death.

DATE UNKNOWN.

KING ARTHUR, mortally wounded by his nephew Mordred in his last fatal battle, returns to his only knight left living on the field-Sir Lukyn, Duke of Gloster,-and thus addresses

him:

IR LUKYN then he thus bespake :

Sir knyghte, thou hast beene faithfulle tryde, Nowe take my sword Excalibar,

That hangs so freelye by my syde:

O take my sword Excalibar,

And there into the river throwe:
For here, henceforth, benethe this tree,
All use of weapons I foregoe.

And fare thee well, thou trustye sword,
A better neer had valiant knighte,
With thee full ofte, and manye a daye,
Have I withstood my foe in fighte.

With this good fauchion in my hande,

Oft have I reapd the bloody feelde:
But nowe the fatalle houre is come,

That never more I may thee weelde.

The duke to the river side he went,

And there his owne sword in threwe he:

But he kept back Excalibar,

He kept it back in privitie.

For all of coleyne was the blade;

And all the hilte of precious stone:
And ever alacke! then sayd the knighte,
Must such a sword awaye be throwne?

Then backe he came unto the kinge,

Who sayd, Sir Lukyn, what did ye see?
Nothing, my liege, save that the winde
Blewe oer the waters faire and free.

KING ARTHUR'S DEATH.

The duke then to the river went,

And the kings scabbard in threwe hee;

But hee kept backe Excalibar,

And hid it undernethe a tree.

Then backe he came to tell the kinge, Who sayde, Sir Lukyn, sawe ye oughte? Nothinge, my liege, save that the winde 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?

Saye, wouldst thou have thy master dead;
All for a sword, that wins thine eye:
Nowe goe againe, and throwe it in,
Or here the one of us shall dye.

The duke, all shent with this rebuke,
No aunswere made unto the kinge:
But to the rivere tooke the sworde,

And threwe it far as he coulde flinge.

A hande and arme did meete the sworde, And flourishd three times in the air; Then sunke benethe the renninge streme, And of the duke was seen noe mair.

All sore astonied stood the duke;

He stood as still, as still mote bee: Then hastend backe to tell the kinge; But he was gone from under the tree.

But to what place he cold not tell,
For never after hee did him spye:
But hee sawe a barge goe from the land,
And hee heard ladyes howle and crye.

FAIR HELEN.

And whether the kinge were there, or not,
Hee never knewe, nor ever colde:
For from that sad and direfulle daye,
Hee never more was seene on molde.

Fair Helen.

SWEETEST sweet, and fairest fair,
Of truth and worth beyond compare,
Thou art the causer of my care
Since first I loved thee.

Yet GOD hath given to me a mind,
The which to thee shall prove as kind
As any one that thou shalt find,
Of high or low degree.

The shallowest water makes maist din,
The deadest pool the deepest linn;
The richest man least truth within,
Though he preferred be.

Yet nevertheless I am content,
And never a whit my love repent,
But think the time be a' weel spent,
Though I disdained be.

O Helen sweet, and maist complete,
My captive spirit's at thy feet;
Think thou still fit thus for to treat
Thy captive cruelly?

O Helen brave, but this I crave,

Some pity have of thy poor slave,

And do him save that's near his grave,
And dies for love of thee!