BOOK II.

FOOTNOTES:[241]Ver. 11. something seems wanting here.[242][alone by yourself.][243][advise.][244]Ver. 32, and 68, perhaps,'bout the hem.[245][knock.][246]V. 58. Could this be the wall of the castle?[247]Ver. 88. Perhaps,loud say I heire.[248]i.e.a drinking cup of maple: other edit. readezar.[249][in splinters he made fly.][250][clothing.][251][blame.][252][blamed.][253]Ver. 128. So Milton,—"Vernal delight and joy: able to driveAll sadness but despair."—B. iv. v. 155.[254][and wiped it on the grass.][255][as the berry is of the stone.][256]leash, thong, cord?—F.

[241]Ver. 11. something seems wanting here.

[242][alone by yourself.]

[243][advise.]

[244]Ver. 32, and 68, perhaps,'bout the hem.

[245][knock.]

[246]V. 58. Could this be the wall of the castle?

[247]Ver. 88. Perhaps,loud say I heire.

[248]i.e.a drinking cup of maple: other edit. readezar.

[249][in splinters he made fly.]

[250][clothing.]

[251][blame.]

[252][blamed.]

[253]Ver. 128. So Milton,—"Vernal delight and joy: able to driveAll sadness but despair."—B. iv. v. 155.

[253]Ver. 128. So Milton,—

"Vernal delight and joy: able to driveAll sadness but despair."—

B. iv. v. 155.

[254][and wiped it on the grass.]

[255][as the berry is of the stone.]

[256]leash, thong, cord?—F.

THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK.

RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, ETC.

SERIES THE THIRD.

Containsa short summary of the exploits of this famous champion, as recorded in the old story books; and is commonly intitled, "A pleasant song of the valiant deeds of chivalry atchieved by that noble knight sir Guy of Warwick, who, for the love of fair Phelis, became a hermit, and dyed in a cave of craggy rocke, a mile distant from Warwick."

The history of Sir Guy, tho' now very properly resigned to children, was once admired by all readers of wit and taste: for taste and wit had once their childhood. Although of English growth, it was early a favourite with other nations: it appeared in French in 1525; and is alluded to in the old Spanish romanceTirante el Blanco, which, it is believed, was written not long after the year 1430. See advertisement to the French translation, 2 vols. 12mo.

The original whence all these stories are extracted is a very ancient romance in old English verse, which is quoted by Chaucer as a celebrated piece even in his time (viz.:—

"Men speken of romances of price,Of Horne childe and Ippotis,Of Bevis, and sir Guy," &c.—R. of Thop.)

and was usually sung to the harp at Christmas dinners and brideales, as we learn from Puttenham'sArt of Poetry, 4to. 1589.

This ancient romance is not wholly lost. An imperfect copy in black letter, "Imprynted at London——for Wylliam Copland," in 34 sheets 4to. without date, is still preserved among Mr. Garrick's collection of old plays. As a specimen of the poetry of this antique rhymer, take his description of the dragon mentioned in v. 105 of the following ballad:—

"——A messenger came to the king.Syr king, he sayd, lysten me now,For bad tydinges I bring you,In Northumberlande there is no man,But that they be slayne everychone:For there dare no man route,By twenty myle rounde aboute,For doubt of a fowle dragon,That sleath men and beastes downe.He is blacke as any cole,Rugged as a rough fole;His bodye from the navill upwardeNo man may it pierce it is so harde;His neck is great as any summere;He renneth as swifte as any distrere;Pawes he hath as a lyon:All that he toucheth he sleath dead downe.Great winges he hath to flight,That is no man that bare him might.There may no man fight him agayne,But that he sleath him certayne:For a fowler beast then is he,Ywis of none never heard ye."

Sir William Dugdale is of opinion that the story of Guy is not wholly apocryphal, tho' he acknowledges the monks have sounded out his praises too hyperbolically. In particular, he gives the duel fought with the Danish champion as a real historical truth, and fixes the date of it in the year 926, Ætat. Guy, 67. See hisWarwickshire.

The following is written upon the same plan as ballad v. book i., but which is the original and which the copy cannot be decided. This song is ancient, as may be inferred from the idiom preserved in the margin, v. 94, 102: and was once popular, as appears from Fletcher'sKnight of the Burning Pestle, act 2, sc. ult.

It is here published from an ancient MS. copy in the editor's old folio volume, collated with two printed ones, one of which is in black letter in the Pepys collection.

[Guy was one of the most popular of the heroes of romance, and the Folio MS. contains three pieces upon his history, viz., the two printed here andGuy and Colbrand.The original of the present ballad in the Folio MS., entitledGuy and Phillis(ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 201), is a mere fragment beginning with verse 89. Percy tore out certain leaves to send to the printer, and in consequence the whole ofKing Estmereand the beginning of this ballad are lost. Alterations have been made in nearly every verse by the help of the printed copies.Guy and Philliswas entered on the Stationers' books, 5th January, 1591-2.We are told by Dugdale that an English traveller, about the year 1410, was hospitably received at Jerusalem by the Soldan's lieutenant, who, hearing that Lord Beauchamp "was descended from the famous Guy of Warwick, whose story they had in books of their own language, invited him to his palace; and royally feasting him, presented him with three precious stones of great value, besides divers cloaths of silk and gold given to his servants." Dugdale's authority for this story was John Rous, a priest of the chapel at Guy's Cliff, near Warwick, who compiled a biography of the hero, in which all the incidents of the romance are narrated as sober fact. The constant praises of the hero bored some people, and Corbet, in hisIter Boreale, expressed the hope that he should hear no more of him—

[Guy was one of the most popular of the heroes of romance, and the Folio MS. contains three pieces upon his history, viz., the two printed here andGuy and Colbrand.

The original of the present ballad in the Folio MS., entitledGuy and Phillis(ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 201), is a mere fragment beginning with verse 89. Percy tore out certain leaves to send to the printer, and in consequence the whole ofKing Estmereand the beginning of this ballad are lost. Alterations have been made in nearly every verse by the help of the printed copies.Guy and Philliswas entered on the Stationers' books, 5th January, 1591-2.

We are told by Dugdale that an English traveller, about the year 1410, was hospitably received at Jerusalem by the Soldan's lieutenant, who, hearing that Lord Beauchamp "was descended from the famous Guy of Warwick, whose story they had in books of their own language, invited him to his palace; and royally feasting him, presented him with three precious stones of great value, besides divers cloaths of silk and gold given to his servants." Dugdale's authority for this story was John Rous, a priest of the chapel at Guy's Cliff, near Warwick, who compiled a biography of the hero, in which all the incidents of the romance are narrated as sober fact. The constant praises of the hero bored some people, and Corbet, in hisIter Boreale, expressed the hope that he should hear no more of him—

"May all the ballads be call'd in and dyeWhich sing the warrs of Colebrand and Sir Guy."

Much valuable information on this subject will be found in Mr. Hale's interesting introduction to the Guy poems in the Folio MS.]

Was ever knight for ladyes sakeSoe tost in love, as I sir GuyFor Phelis fayre, that lady brightAs ever man beheld with eye?She gave me leave myself to try,The valiant knight with sheeld and speare,Ere that her love shee wold grant me;Which made mee venture far and neare.Then proved I a baron bold,[257]In deeds of armes the doughtyest knightThat in those dayes in England was,With sworde and speare in feild to fight.An English man I was by birthe:In faith of Christ a christyan true:The wicked lawes of infidells15I sought by prowesse to subdue.'Nine' hundred twenty yeere and odde[258]After our Saviour Christ his birth,When king Athèlstone wore the crowne,I lived heere upon the earth.20Sometime I was of Warwicke erle,And, as I sayd, of very truthA ladyes love did me constraineTo seeke strange ventures in my youth.To win me fame by feates of armes25In strange and sundry heathen lands;Where I atchieved for her sakeRight dangerous conquests with my hands.For first I sayled to Normandye,And there I stoutlye wan in fight30The emperours daughter of Almaine,From manye a vallyant worthye knight.Then passed I the seas to GreeceTo helpe the emperour in his right;Against the mightye souldans hoaste35Of puissant Persians for to fight.Where I did slay of Sarazens,And heathen pagans, manye a man;And slew the souldans cozen deere,Who had to name doughtye Coldràn.40Eskeldered a famous knightTo death likewise I did pursue:And Elmayne king of Tyre alsoe,Most terrible in fight to viewe.I went into the souldans hoast,45Being thither on embassage sent,And brought his head awaye with mee;I having slaine him in his tent.There was a dragon in that landMost fiercelye mett me by the waye50As hee a lyon did pursue,Which I myself did alsoe slay.Then soon I past the seas from Greece,And came to Pavye land aright:Where I the duke of Pavye killed,55His hainous treason to requite.To England then I came with speede,To wedd faire Phelis lady bright:For love of whome I travelled farrTo try my manhood and my might.60But when I had espoused her,I stayd with her but fortye dayes,Ere that I left this ladye faire,And went from her beyond the seas.All cladd in gray, in pilgrim sort,65My voyage from her I did takeUnto the blessed Holy-land,For Jesus Christ my Saviours sake.Where I erle Jonas did redeeme,And all his sonnes which were fifteene,70Who with the cruell SarazensIn prison for long time had beene.I slew the gyant AmarantIn battel fiercelye hand to hand:And doughty Barknard killed I,75A treacherous knight of Pavye land.Then I to England came againe,And here with Colbronde fell I fought:An ugly gyant, which the DanesHad for their champion hither brought.80I overcame him in the feild,And slewe him soone right valliantlye;Wherebye this land I did redeemeFrom Danish tribute utterlye.And afterwards I offered upp85The use of weapons solemnlyeAt Winchester, whereas I fought,In sight of manye farr and nye.'But first,' neare Winsor, I did slayeA bore of passing might and strength;90Whose like in England never wasFor hugenesse both in bredth, and length.Some of his bones in Warwicke yett,Within the castle there doe lye:[259]One of his sheeld-bones to this day95Hangs in the citye of Coventrye.On Dunsmore heath I alsoe sleweA monstrous wyld and cruell beast,Calld the Dun-cow of Dunsmore heath;Which manye people had opprest.100Some of her bones in Warwicke yettStill for a monument doe lye;[259]And there exposed to lookers vieweAs wonderous strange, they may espye.A dragon in Northumberland,105I alsoe did in fight destroye,Which did bothe man and beast oppresse,And all the countrye sore annoye.At length to Warwicke I did come,Like pilgrim poore and was not knowne;110And there I lived a hermitts lifeA mile and more out of the towne.Where with my hands I hewed a houseOut of a craggy rocke of stone;And lived like a palmer poore115Within that cave myself alone:And daylye came to begg my breadOf Phelis att my castle gate;Not knowne unto my loved wiffeWho dailye mourned for her mate.120Till att the last I fell sore sicke,Yea sicke soe sore that I must dye;I sent to her a ring of golde,By which shee knew me presentlye.Then shee repairing to the cave125Before that I gave up the ghost;Herself closd up my dying eyes:My Phelis faire, whom I lovd most.Thus dreadful death did me arrest,To bring my corpes unto the grave;130And like a palmer dyed I,Wherby I sought my soule to save.My body that endured this toyle,Though now it be consumed to mold;My statue faire engraven in stone,135In Warwicke still you may behold.

Was ever knight for ladyes sakeSoe tost in love, as I sir GuyFor Phelis fayre, that lady brightAs ever man beheld with eye?

She gave me leave myself to try,The valiant knight with sheeld and speare,Ere that her love shee wold grant me;Which made mee venture far and neare.

Then proved I a baron bold,[257]In deeds of armes the doughtyest knightThat in those dayes in England was,With sworde and speare in feild to fight.

An English man I was by birthe:In faith of Christ a christyan true:The wicked lawes of infidells15I sought by prowesse to subdue.

'Nine' hundred twenty yeere and odde[258]After our Saviour Christ his birth,When king Athèlstone wore the crowne,I lived heere upon the earth.20

Sometime I was of Warwicke erle,And, as I sayd, of very truthA ladyes love did me constraineTo seeke strange ventures in my youth.

To win me fame by feates of armes25In strange and sundry heathen lands;Where I atchieved for her sakeRight dangerous conquests with my hands.

For first I sayled to Normandye,And there I stoutlye wan in fight30The emperours daughter of Almaine,From manye a vallyant worthye knight.

Then passed I the seas to GreeceTo helpe the emperour in his right;Against the mightye souldans hoaste35Of puissant Persians for to fight.

Where I did slay of Sarazens,And heathen pagans, manye a man;And slew the souldans cozen deere,Who had to name doughtye Coldràn.40

Eskeldered a famous knightTo death likewise I did pursue:And Elmayne king of Tyre alsoe,Most terrible in fight to viewe.

I went into the souldans hoast,45Being thither on embassage sent,And brought his head awaye with mee;I having slaine him in his tent.

There was a dragon in that landMost fiercelye mett me by the waye50As hee a lyon did pursue,Which I myself did alsoe slay.

Then soon I past the seas from Greece,And came to Pavye land aright:Where I the duke of Pavye killed,55His hainous treason to requite.

To England then I came with speede,To wedd faire Phelis lady bright:For love of whome I travelled farrTo try my manhood and my might.60

But when I had espoused her,I stayd with her but fortye dayes,Ere that I left this ladye faire,And went from her beyond the seas.

All cladd in gray, in pilgrim sort,65My voyage from her I did takeUnto the blessed Holy-land,For Jesus Christ my Saviours sake.

Where I erle Jonas did redeeme,And all his sonnes which were fifteene,70Who with the cruell SarazensIn prison for long time had beene.

I slew the gyant AmarantIn battel fiercelye hand to hand:And doughty Barknard killed I,75A treacherous knight of Pavye land.

Then I to England came againe,And here with Colbronde fell I fought:An ugly gyant, which the DanesHad for their champion hither brought.80

I overcame him in the feild,And slewe him soone right valliantlye;Wherebye this land I did redeemeFrom Danish tribute utterlye.

And afterwards I offered upp85The use of weapons solemnlyeAt Winchester, whereas I fought,In sight of manye farr and nye.

'But first,' neare Winsor, I did slayeA bore of passing might and strength;90Whose like in England never wasFor hugenesse both in bredth, and length.

Some of his bones in Warwicke yett,Within the castle there doe lye:[259]One of his sheeld-bones to this day95Hangs in the citye of Coventrye.

On Dunsmore heath I alsoe sleweA monstrous wyld and cruell beast,Calld the Dun-cow of Dunsmore heath;Which manye people had opprest.100

Some of her bones in Warwicke yettStill for a monument doe lye;[259]And there exposed to lookers vieweAs wonderous strange, they may espye.

A dragon in Northumberland,105I alsoe did in fight destroye,Which did bothe man and beast oppresse,And all the countrye sore annoye.

At length to Warwicke I did come,Like pilgrim poore and was not knowne;110And there I lived a hermitts lifeA mile and more out of the towne.

Where with my hands I hewed a houseOut of a craggy rocke of stone;And lived like a palmer poore115Within that cave myself alone:

And daylye came to begg my breadOf Phelis att my castle gate;Not knowne unto my loved wiffeWho dailye mourned for her mate.120

Till att the last I fell sore sicke,Yea sicke soe sore that I must dye;I sent to her a ring of golde,By which shee knew me presentlye.

Then shee repairing to the cave125Before that I gave up the ghost;Herself closd up my dying eyes:My Phelis faire, whom I lovd most.

Thus dreadful death did me arrest,To bring my corpes unto the grave;130And like a palmer dyed I,Wherby I sought my soule to save.

My body that endured this toyle,Though now it be consumed to mold;My statue faire engraven in stone,135In Warwicke still you may behold.

FOOTNOTES:[257]Ver. 9. The proud Sir Guy,PC.[258]Ver. 17. Two hundred, MS. and P.[259]Ver. 94, 102, doth lye, MS.

[257]Ver. 9. The proud Sir Guy,PC.

[258]Ver. 17. Two hundred, MS. and P.

[259]Ver. 94, 102, doth lye, MS.

TheEditor found this Poem in his ancient folio manuscript among the old ballads; he was desirous therefore that it should still accompany them; and as it is not altogether devoid of merit, its insertion here will be pardoned.

Although this piece seems not imperfect, there is reason to believe that it is only part of a much larger poem, which contained the whole history of sir Guy: for upon comparing it with the common story book 12mo. we find the latter to be nothing more than this poem reduced to prose: which is only effected by now and then altering the rhyme, and throwing out some few of the poetical ornaments. The disguise is so slight, that it is an easy matter to pick complete stanzas in any page of that book.

The author of this poem has shown some invention. Though he took the subject from the old romance quoted before, he has adorned it afresh, and made the story intirely his own.

This poem has been discovered to be a fragment of, "The famous historie of Guy earl of Warwicke, bySamuel Rowlands, London, printed by J. Bell, 1649, 4to." in xii cantos, beginning thus:

"When dreadful Mars in armour every day."

Whether the edition in 1649, was the first, is not known, but the authorSam. Rowlandswas one of the minor poets who lived in the reigns of Q. Elizabeth and James I. and perhaps later. His other poems are chiefly of the religious kind, which makes it probable that the hist. of Guy was one of his earliest performances.—There are extant of his (1.) "The betraying of Christ, Judas indispaire, the seven words of our Saviour on the crosse, with otherpoems on the passion, &c.1598, 4to. (Ames Typ. p. 428.)—(2.)ATheatre of delightful Recreation.Lond. printed for A. Johnson, 1605," 4to. (Penes editor.) This is a book of poems on subjects chiefly taken from the old Testament. (3.) "Memory of Christ'smiracles, in verse.Lond. 1618, 4to." (4.) "Heaven's glory, earth'svanity, and hell's horror.Lond. 1638, 8vo." (These two in Bod. Cat.)

In the present edition the following poem has been much improved from the printed copy.

[This poem is a very poor thing and looks very like a joke in some parts. In the Folio MS. Percy has written "By the elegance of language and easy flow of the versification this poem should be more modern than the rest."Mr. Furnivall adds to this expression of opinion the following note, "the first bombastic rhodomontade affair in the book. Certainly modern and certainly bad" (Folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 136.) Collations from the MS. are added at the foot of the page.]

Mr. Furnivall adds to this expression of opinion the following note, "the first bombastic rhodomontade affair in the book. Certainly modern and certainly bad" (Folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 136.) Collations from the MS. are added at the foot of the page.]

Guy journeyes towards that sanctifyed ground,[260]Whereas the Jewes fayre citye sometime stood,Wherin our Saviour's sacred head was crowned,And where for sinfull man he shed his blood:To see the sepulcher was his intent,5The tombe that Joseph unto Jesus lent.With tedious miles he tyred his wearye feet,And passed desart places full of danger,At last with a most woefull wight[261]did meet,A man that unto sorrow was noe stranger:10For he had fifteen sonnes, made captives allTo slavish bondage, in extremest thrall.A gyant called Amarant detaind them,Whom noe man durst encounter for his strength:Who in a castle, which he held, had chaind them:15Guy questions, where? and understands at lengthThe place not farr.—Lend me thy sword, quoth hee,Ile lend my manhood all thy sonnes to free.With that he goes, and lays upon the dore,Like one that sayes, I must, and will come in:[262]20The gyant never was soe rowz'd before;[263]For noe such knocking at his gate had bin:Soe takes his keyes, and clubb, and cometh outStaring with ireful countenance about.Sirra, quoth hee, what busines hast thou heere?[264]25Art come to feast the crowes about my walls?[265]Didst never heare, noe ransome can him cleere,[266]That in the compasse of my furye falls:For making me to take a porters paines,With this same clubb I will dash out thy braines.30Gyant, quoth Guy, y'are quarrelsome I see,[267]Choller and you seem very neere of kin:[268]Most dangerous at the clubb belike you bee;[269]I have bin better armed, though nowe goe thin;But shew thy utmost hate, enlarge thy spight,35Keene is my weapon, and shall doe me right.[270]Soe draws his sword, salutes him with the same[271]About the head, the shoulders, and the side:[272]Whilst his erected clubb doth death proclaime,Standinge with huge Colossus' spacious stride,40Putting such vigour to his knotty beame,That like a furnace he did smoke extreame.But on the ground he spent his strokes in vaine,For Guy was nimble to avoyde them still,And ever ere he heav'd his clubb againe,[273]45Did brush his plated coat against his will:[274]Att such advantage Guy wold never fayle,To bang him soundlye in his coate of mayle.[275]Att last through thirst the gyant feeble grewe,[276]And sayd to Guy, As thou'rt of humane race,50Shew itt in this, give natures wants their dewe,[277]Let me but goe, and drinke in yonder place:Thou canst not yeeld to "me" a smaller thing,Than to graunt life, thats given by the spring.[278]I graunt thee leave, quoth Guye, goe drink thy last,[279]55Go pledge the dragon, and the salvage bore[280]:[281]Succeed the tragedyes that they have past,But never thinke to taste cold water more:[282]Drinke deepe to Death and unto him carouse:[283]Bid him receive thee in his earthen house.60Soe to the spring he goes, and slakes his thirst;Takeing the water in extremely likeSome wracked shipp that on a rocke is burst,[284]Whose forced hulke against the stones does stryke;[285]Scooping it in soe fast with both his hands,65That Guy admiring to behold it stands.[286]Come on, quoth Guy, let us to worke againe,[287]Thou stayest about thy liquor overlong;The fish, which in the river doe remaine,Will want thereby; thy drinking doth them wrong:But I will see their satisfaction made,71With gyants blood they must, and shall be payd.Villaine, quoth Amarant, Ile crush thee streight;Thy life shall pay thy daring toungs offence:This clubb, which is about some hundred weight,75Is deathes commission to dispatch thee hence:[288]Dresse thee for ravens dyett I must needes;And breake thy bones, as they were made of reedes.Incensed much by these bold pagan bostes,[289]Which worthye Guy cold ill endure to heare,80He hewes upon those bigg supporting postes,Which like two pillars did his body beare:Amarant for those wounds in choller growesAnd desperatelye att Guy his clubb he throwes:Which did directly on his body light,85Soe violent, and weighty there-withall,[290]That downe to ground on sudden came the knight;And, ere he cold recover from the fall,[291]The gyant gott his clubb againe in fist,[292]And aimd a stroke that wonderfullye mist.[293]90Traytor, quoth Guy, thy falshood Ile repay,This coward act to intercept my bloode.Sayes Amarant, Ile murther any way,With enemyes all vantages are good:O could I poyson in thy nostrills blowe,95Besure of it I wold dispatch thee soe.[294]Its well, said Guy, thy honest thoughts appeare,Within that beastlye bulke where devills dwell;Which are thy tenants while thou livest heare,But will be landlords when thou comest in hell:100Vile miscreant, prepare thee for their den,Inhumane monster, hatefull unto men.[295]But breathe thy selfe a time, while I goe drinke,For flameing Phœbus with his fyerye eyeTorments me soe with burning heat, I thinke105My thirst wold serve to drinke an ocean drye:Forbear a litle, as I delt with thee.Quoth Amarant, 'Thou hast noe foole of mee.Noe, sillye wretch, my father taught more witt,How I shold use such enemyes as thou;110By all my gods I doe rejoice at itt,To understand that thirst constraines thee now;For all the treasure, that the world containes,One drop of water shall not coole thy vaines.Releeve my foe! why, 'twere a madmans part:115Refresh an adversarye to my wrong!If thou imagine this, a child thou art:Noe, fellow, I have known the world too longTo be soe simple: now I know thy want,A minutes space of breathing I'll not grant.[296]120And with these words heaving aloft his clubbInto the ayre, he swings the same about:Then shakes his lockes, and doth his temples rubb,And, like the Cyclops, in his pride doth strout:[297]Sirra, sayes hee, I have you at a lift,125Now you are come unto your latest shift.Perish forever: with this stroke I send theeA medicine, that will doe thy thirst much good;[298]Take noe more care for drinke before I end thee,And then wee'll have carouses of thy blood:130Here's at thee with a butchers downright blow,To please my furye with thine overthrow.Infernall, false, obdurate feend, said Guy,[299]That seemst a lumpe of crueltye from hell;[300]Ungratefull monster, since thou dost deny[301]135The thing to mee wherin I used thee well:With more revenge, than ere my sword did make,On thy accursed head revenge Ile take.Thy gyants longitude shall shorter shrinke,Except thy sun-scorcht skin be weapon proof:[302]140Farewell my thirst; I doe disdaine to drinke,Streames keepe your waters to your owne behoof;[303]Or let wild beasts be welcome thereunto;With those pearle drops I will not have to do.Here, tyrant, take a taste of my good-will,[304]145For thus I doe begin my bloodye bout:You cannot chuse but like the greeting ill;It is not that same clubb will beare you out;And take this payment on thy shaggye crowne.—A blowe that brought him with a vengeance downe.150Then Guy sett foot upon the monsters brest,And from his shoulders did his head divide;Which with a yawninge mouth did gape, unblest;Noe dragons jawes were ever scene soe wideTo open and to shut, till life was spent.155Then Guy tooke keyes and to the castle went.Where manye woefull captives he did find,Which had beene tyred with extremityes;Whom he in freindly manner did unbind,And reasoned with them of their miseryes:[305]160Eche told a tale with teares, and sighes, and cryes,All weeping to him with complaining eyes.There tender ladyes in darke dungeons lay,[306]That were surprised in the desart wood,And had noe other dyett everye day,165But flesh of humane creatures for their food:[307]Some with their lovers bodyes had beene fed,And in their wombes their husbands buryed.Now he bethinkes him of his being there,169To enlarge the wronged brethren from their woes;And, as he searcheth, doth great clamours heare,By which sad sound's direction on he goes,Untill he findes a darksome obscure gate,Arm'd strongly ouer all with iron plate.That he unlockes, and enters, where appeares,175The strangest object that he ever saw;Men that with famishment of many yeares,Were like deathes picture, which the painters draw;[308]Divers of them were hanged by eche thombe;Others head-downward: by the middle some.180With diligence he takes them from the walle,[309]With lybertye their thraldome to acquaint:Then the perplexed knight their father calls,[310]And sayes, Receive thy sonnes though poore and faint:I promisd you their lives, accept of that;185But did not warrant you they shold be fat.[311]The castle I doe give thee, heere's the keyes,Where tyranye for many yeeres did dwell:Procure the gentle tender ladyes ease,For pittyes sake, use wronged women well:[312]190Men easilye revenge the wrongs men do:[313]But poore weake women have not strength thereto.[314]The good old man, even overjoyed with this,Fell on the ground, and wold have kist Guys feete:Father, quoth he, refraine soe base a kiss,195For age to honor youth I hold unmeete:Ambitious pryde hath hurt mee all it can,I goe to mortifie a sinfull man.

With tedious miles he tyred his wearye feet,And passed desart places full of danger,At last with a most woefull wight[261]did meet,A man that unto sorrow was noe stranger:10For he had fifteen sonnes, made captives allTo slavish bondage, in extremest thrall.

A gyant called Amarant detaind them,Whom noe man durst encounter for his strength:Who in a castle, which he held, had chaind them:15Guy questions, where? and understands at lengthThe place not farr.—Lend me thy sword, quoth hee,Ile lend my manhood all thy sonnes to free.

With that he goes, and lays upon the dore,Like one that sayes, I must, and will come in:[262]20The gyant never was soe rowz'd before;[263]For noe such knocking at his gate had bin:Soe takes his keyes, and clubb, and cometh outStaring with ireful countenance about.

Sirra, quoth hee, what busines hast thou heere?[264]25Art come to feast the crowes about my walls?[265]Didst never heare, noe ransome can him cleere,[266]That in the compasse of my furye falls:For making me to take a porters paines,With this same clubb I will dash out thy braines.30

Gyant, quoth Guy, y'are quarrelsome I see,[267]Choller and you seem very neere of kin:[268]Most dangerous at the clubb belike you bee;[269]I have bin better armed, though nowe goe thin;But shew thy utmost hate, enlarge thy spight,35Keene is my weapon, and shall doe me right.[270]

Soe draws his sword, salutes him with the same[271]About the head, the shoulders, and the side:[272]Whilst his erected clubb doth death proclaime,Standinge with huge Colossus' spacious stride,40Putting such vigour to his knotty beame,That like a furnace he did smoke extreame.

But on the ground he spent his strokes in vaine,For Guy was nimble to avoyde them still,And ever ere he heav'd his clubb againe,[273]45Did brush his plated coat against his will:[274]Att such advantage Guy wold never fayle,To bang him soundlye in his coate of mayle.[275]

Att last through thirst the gyant feeble grewe,[276]And sayd to Guy, As thou'rt of humane race,50Shew itt in this, give natures wants their dewe,[277]Let me but goe, and drinke in yonder place:Thou canst not yeeld to "me" a smaller thing,Than to graunt life, thats given by the spring.[278]

I graunt thee leave, quoth Guye, goe drink thy last,[279]55Go pledge the dragon, and the salvage bore[280]:[281]Succeed the tragedyes that they have past,But never thinke to taste cold water more:[282]Drinke deepe to Death and unto him carouse:[283]Bid him receive thee in his earthen house.60

Soe to the spring he goes, and slakes his thirst;Takeing the water in extremely likeSome wracked shipp that on a rocke is burst,[284]Whose forced hulke against the stones does stryke;[285]Scooping it in soe fast with both his hands,65That Guy admiring to behold it stands.[286]

Come on, quoth Guy, let us to worke againe,[287]Thou stayest about thy liquor overlong;The fish, which in the river doe remaine,Will want thereby; thy drinking doth them wrong:But I will see their satisfaction made,71With gyants blood they must, and shall be payd.

Villaine, quoth Amarant, Ile crush thee streight;Thy life shall pay thy daring toungs offence:This clubb, which is about some hundred weight,75Is deathes commission to dispatch thee hence:[288]Dresse thee for ravens dyett I must needes;And breake thy bones, as they were made of reedes.

Incensed much by these bold pagan bostes,[289]Which worthye Guy cold ill endure to heare,80He hewes upon those bigg supporting postes,Which like two pillars did his body beare:Amarant for those wounds in choller growesAnd desperatelye att Guy his clubb he throwes:

Which did directly on his body light,85Soe violent, and weighty there-withall,[290]That downe to ground on sudden came the knight;And, ere he cold recover from the fall,[291]The gyant gott his clubb againe in fist,[292]And aimd a stroke that wonderfullye mist.[293]90

Traytor, quoth Guy, thy falshood Ile repay,This coward act to intercept my bloode.Sayes Amarant, Ile murther any way,With enemyes all vantages are good:O could I poyson in thy nostrills blowe,95Besure of it I wold dispatch thee soe.[294]

Its well, said Guy, thy honest thoughts appeare,Within that beastlye bulke where devills dwell;Which are thy tenants while thou livest heare,But will be landlords when thou comest in hell:100Vile miscreant, prepare thee for their den,Inhumane monster, hatefull unto men.[295]

But breathe thy selfe a time, while I goe drinke,For flameing Phœbus with his fyerye eyeTorments me soe with burning heat, I thinke105My thirst wold serve to drinke an ocean drye:Forbear a litle, as I delt with thee.Quoth Amarant, 'Thou hast noe foole of mee.

Noe, sillye wretch, my father taught more witt,How I shold use such enemyes as thou;110By all my gods I doe rejoice at itt,To understand that thirst constraines thee now;For all the treasure, that the world containes,One drop of water shall not coole thy vaines.

Releeve my foe! why, 'twere a madmans part:115Refresh an adversarye to my wrong!If thou imagine this, a child thou art:Noe, fellow, I have known the world too longTo be soe simple: now I know thy want,A minutes space of breathing I'll not grant.[296]120

And with these words heaving aloft his clubbInto the ayre, he swings the same about:Then shakes his lockes, and doth his temples rubb,And, like the Cyclops, in his pride doth strout:[297]Sirra, sayes hee, I have you at a lift,125Now you are come unto your latest shift.

Perish forever: with this stroke I send theeA medicine, that will doe thy thirst much good;[298]Take noe more care for drinke before I end thee,And then wee'll have carouses of thy blood:130Here's at thee with a butchers downright blow,To please my furye with thine overthrow.

Infernall, false, obdurate feend, said Guy,[299]That seemst a lumpe of crueltye from hell;[300]Ungratefull monster, since thou dost deny[301]135The thing to mee wherin I used thee well:With more revenge, than ere my sword did make,On thy accursed head revenge Ile take.

Thy gyants longitude shall shorter shrinke,Except thy sun-scorcht skin be weapon proof:[302]140Farewell my thirst; I doe disdaine to drinke,Streames keepe your waters to your owne behoof;[303]Or let wild beasts be welcome thereunto;With those pearle drops I will not have to do.

Here, tyrant, take a taste of my good-will,[304]145For thus I doe begin my bloodye bout:You cannot chuse but like the greeting ill;It is not that same clubb will beare you out;And take this payment on thy shaggye crowne.—A blowe that brought him with a vengeance downe.150

Then Guy sett foot upon the monsters brest,And from his shoulders did his head divide;Which with a yawninge mouth did gape, unblest;Noe dragons jawes were ever scene soe wideTo open and to shut, till life was spent.155Then Guy tooke keyes and to the castle went.

Where manye woefull captives he did find,Which had beene tyred with extremityes;Whom he in freindly manner did unbind,And reasoned with them of their miseryes:[305]160Eche told a tale with teares, and sighes, and cryes,All weeping to him with complaining eyes.

There tender ladyes in darke dungeons lay,[306]That were surprised in the desart wood,And had noe other dyett everye day,165But flesh of humane creatures for their food:[307]Some with their lovers bodyes had beene fed,And in their wombes their husbands buryed.

Now he bethinkes him of his being there,169To enlarge the wronged brethren from their woes;And, as he searcheth, doth great clamours heare,By which sad sound's direction on he goes,Untill he findes a darksome obscure gate,Arm'd strongly ouer all with iron plate.

That he unlockes, and enters, where appeares,175The strangest object that he ever saw;Men that with famishment of many yeares,Were like deathes picture, which the painters draw;[308]Divers of them were hanged by eche thombe;Others head-downward: by the middle some.180

With diligence he takes them from the walle,[309]With lybertye their thraldome to acquaint:Then the perplexed knight their father calls,[310]And sayes, Receive thy sonnes though poore and faint:I promisd you their lives, accept of that;185But did not warrant you they shold be fat.[311]

The castle I doe give thee, heere's the keyes,Where tyranye for many yeeres did dwell:Procure the gentle tender ladyes ease,For pittyes sake, use wronged women well:[312]190Men easilye revenge the wrongs men do:[313]But poore weake women have not strength thereto.[314]

The good old man, even overjoyed with this,Fell on the ground, and wold have kist Guys feete:Father, quoth he, refraine soe base a kiss,195For age to honor youth I hold unmeete:Ambitious pryde hath hurt mee all it can,I goe to mortifie a sinfull man.

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