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CHILDE MAUBICE. 317 |
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And bade her come to the silver wood, To hunt with Childe Maurice.
" And by my faith now, Childe Maurice,
The tane of us shall dye;" so
" Now by my troth," sayd Childe Maurice, " And that shall not be I."
But he pulled out a bright browne sword,
And dryed it on the grasse, And soe fast he smote at John Steward, 95
Iwis he never rest
Then hee pulled forth his bright browne sword,
And dryed itt on his sleeve, And the ffirst good stroke John Steward stroke,
Child Maurice head he did cleeve. 100
And he pricked it on his swords poynt,
Went singing there beside, And he rode till he came to the ladye ffaire,
Whereas his ladye lyed.
And sayes," dost thou know Child Maurice head, Iff that thou dost it see ? 106
And llap it soft, and kisse itt offt, Ffor thou lovedst him better than mee."
But when shee looked on Child Maurice head, Shee never spake words but three: 110
" I never beare noe child but one, And you have slain him trulye."
Sayes, " wicked be my merry men all, I gave meate, drinke, and clothe; |
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