And down he stepped into the lists,
That courteous knight to greet.

And he for pain and lack of blood
Was fallen into a swoond,

And there all weltering in his gore,

Lay lifeless on the ground.

Come down, come down, my daughter dear!
Thou art a leech of skill,

Far lever had I lose half my lands
Than this good knight should spill.

Down then steppeth that fair lady,
To help him if she may;

But when she did his beaver raise,
It is my life! my lord! she says;
And shrieked and swooned away.

Sir Cauline just lift up his eyes,
When he heard his lady cry,
O lady! I am thine own true love,
For thee I wished to die.

Then giving her one parting look,
He closed his eyes in death,
Ere Christabelle, that lady mild,
Began to draw her breath.

But when she found her comely knight
Indeed was dead and gone,

She laid her own pale cheek to his,

And thus she made her moan.

O stay, my dear and only lord,
For me, thy faithful feere:

'Tis meet that I should follow thee,

Who hast bought my love so dear.

* Rather.

D

Then fainting in a deadly swoon, And with a deep-fetched sigh, That burst her gentle heart in twain, Fair Christabelle did die.

SIR ALDINGAR.

IN Sir Walter Scott's "Border Minstrelsy," is a ballad somewhat similar, in design, to the present, bearing the title of Sir Rodingham. Dr. Percy has given to this some conjectural emendations, and also supplemental stanzas.

OUR King he kept a false steward,
Sir Aldingar they him call;

A falser steward than he was one,
Served not in bower nor hall.

He would have lain by our comely Queen,
Her dear worship to betray:

Our queen she was a good woman,
And evermore said him nay.

Sir Aldingar was wroth in his mind,—
With her he was never content,
Till traitorous means he could devise
In a fire to have her brent.

There came a Lazar to the king's gate,—
A lazar both blind and lame,

He took the lazar upon his back,—

Him on the queen's bed has lain.

Lie still, lazar, where as thou liest,—
Look thou go not hence away;

I'll make thee a whole man and a sound,
In two hours of the day.*

Then went him forth Sir Aldingar,
And hied him to our king:

If I might have grace, as I have space,
Sad tidings I could bring.

Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar,—
Say on the sooth to me.

Our queen hath chosen a new, new love,
And she will have none of thee.

If she had chosen a right good knight,
The less had been her shame;

But she hath chose her a lazar-man,—
A lazar both blind and lame.

If this be true, thou Aldingar,

The tidings thou tellest to me,

Then will I make thee a rich, rich knight,—
Rich both of gold and fee.

But if it be false, Sir Aldingar,—

As God now grant it be !—
Thy body, I swear by the holy rood,
Shall hang on the gallows tree.

He brought our king to the queen's chamber,
And opened to him the door.

"A lodlye + love," King Harry says,

For our queen, dame Elinore.

* Probably alluding to the supposed virtue of the royal touch.

+ Loathsome.

If thou wert a man, as thou art none,
Here on my sword thou'st die;

But a pair of new gallows shall be built,
And there shalt thou hang on high.

Forth then hied our king, I wis,

And an angry man was he;
And soon he found Queen Elinore,
That bride so bright of blee.

Now God you save, our queen, madam,
And Christ you save and see!
Here you have chosen a new, new love,
And you will have none of me.

If you had chosen a right good knight,
The less had been your shame;
But you have chose you a lazar-man,—
A lazar both blind and lame.

Therefore a fire there shall be built,
And brent all shalt thou be.
Now out, alack! said our comely queen,
Sir Aldingar's false to me.

Now out, alack! said our comely queen,
My heart with grief will brast;

I had thought swevens * had never been true;—
I have proved them true at last.

I dreamt in my sweven, on Thursday eve,

In my

bed whereas I lay,

I dreamt a grype † and a grimly beast

Had carried my crown away.

* Dreams.

+ Grype-griffin, a fabulous beast, with wings.