I dyd than tafte the aromatyke lycoure, 55 60 Of golde was made a ryght crafty vyne ; Inftede of grapes the rubies there did shyne. The flore was paved with berall clarified, 65 With pillers made of ftones precious, That treated well of a ful noble story, Of the doubty waye to the Tower Perillous ; † Howe a noble knyght should wynne the victory Of many a ferpente foule and odious. †The ftory of the poem. 70 XI. XI. THE CHILD OF ELLE, is given from a fragment in the Editor's folio MS: which tho' extremely defective and mutilated appeared to have fo much merit, that it excited a strong defire to attempt a completion of the ftory. The Reader will eafily difcover the fupplemental ftanzas by their inferiority, and at the fame time be inclined to pardon it, when he confiders how difficult it must be to imitate the affecting fimplicity and artless beauties of the original. CHILD was a title sometimes given to a knight. See Gloff. N yonder hill a castle ftandes, ON With walles and towres bedight, The Child of Elle to his garden wente, Whan, lo! he beheld fair Emmelines page The Child of Elle he hyed him thence, Y-wis he ftoode not stille, And foone he mette faire Emmelines page 10 Nowe Chrifte thee fave, thou little foot-page, Now Chrifte thee fave and fee! Oh telle me how does thy ladye gaye, My lady fhee is all woe-begone, And the teares they falle from her eyne; And aye she laments the deadlye feude Betweene her house and thine. And here fhee fends thee a filken fcarfe And biddes thee fometimes thinke on her, Who loved thee fo deare. 15 20 And here fhee fends thee a ring of golde 25 The last boone thou mayst have, And biddes thee weare it for her fake, Whan fhe is layde in grave." For, ah! her gentle heart is broke, And in grave foone muft fhee bee, 30 Sith her father hath chofe her a new new love, And forbidde her to think of thee. Her father hath brought her a carlish knight, And within three dayes fhee muft him wedde, 35 Or he vowes he will her flaye. Nowe Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, And greet thy ladye from mee, And telle her that I her owne true love Will dye, or fette her free. 49 Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, And let thy fair ladye know This night will I bee at her bowre-windowe, The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne, 45 Untill he came to fair Emmelines bowre, 50 O ladye, Ive been with thy own true love, This night will he bee at thy bowre-windowe, And dye or fette thee free. Nowe daye was gone, and night was come, All fave the ladye Emmeline, Who fate in her bowre to weepe : And foone shee heard her true loves voice Tis I thy true love call. LA 60 Awake, Awake, awake, my ladye deare, Come, mount this faire palfràye: This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe, Ile carrye thee hence awaye. Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knight, Now nay, this may not bee; For aye fhould I tint my maiden fame, 65 O ladye, thou with a knighte so true Mayft fafelye wend alone, To my ladye mother I will thee bringe, 70 My father he is a baron bolde, 1 Of lynage proude and hye; 75 Ah! well I wot, he never would rest, 80 And feene thy deare hearts bloode." O ladye, wert thou in thy faddle fette, I would not care for thy cruel father, Nor the worst that he could doe. |