No. XLVI. KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. A FRAGMENT. From "Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry." ON Trinitye Mondaye in the morne, This sore battayle was doom'd to bee; Where manye a knighte cried" Well-awaye !" Alacke, it was the more pittie. Ere the first crowinge of the cocke, * Sir Gawaine had been killed at Arthur's landing, on his return from abroad. ." Nowe, as you are mine unkle deare, "And as you prize your life, this daye "O meet not with your foe in fighte: "Putt off the battayle, if yee maye; "For Sir Launcelot is nowe in Fraunce, “And with him many an hardye knighte: "Who will within this moneth be backe, And will assiste yee in the fighte." The Kinge then call'd his nobles all, And tolde them howe Sir Gawaine came, His nobles all this counsayle gave, Then twelve good knightes King Arthure chose, The best of all that with him were : To parley with the foe in fielde, And make with him agreement faire. The King he charged all his hoste, But noe man sholde noe weapon sturre, And Mordred on the other parte, Twelve of his knights did likewise bringe; The beste of all his companye, To hold the parley with the Kinge. Sir Mordred alsoe charged his hoste, But noe man sholde noe weapon sturre, For he durste not his unkle truste, Alacke! it was a woefulle case, As ere in Christentye befelle. But when they were together mette, And both to faire accordance broughte; And a month's league betweene them sette, Before the battayle sholde be foughte; An addere crept forth of a bushe, Stunge one o' th' King's knightes on the knee : Alacke! it was a woefulle chance, As ever was in Christentie. When the Knighte found him wounded sore, For when the two hostes sawe the sworde On one side there were left but three. For all were slain that durst abide, And but some fewe that fled awaye : Ay mee! it was a bloodye fielde, As ere was foughte on summer's daye. Upon King Arthur's own partyè, And the King's butler Bedevere. And when the King beheld his knightes, "Nowe reste yee all, brave knights, he said, "Soe true and faithful to your trust: • And must yee then, ye valiant hearts, "Be lefte to moulder into dust! "Most loyal have yee been to mee, "Most true and faithful unto deathe: "And, oh! to rayse yee up againe, "How freelye could I yield my breathe! "But see the traitor's yet alive, "Lo where hee stalkes among "Nowe bitterlye he shall abye : the deade! " And vengeance fall upon his head. "O staye, my liege," then sayd the Duke; "Nor meete your foe, if it may bee |