University of Virginia Library

Now will ye list a little space,
And I shall send you to solace,
You to solace and to be blyth,
Hearken, ye shall hear belyve
A tale that is of veritie,
If ye will hearken unto me.

In Naples lived there a king,
Had all the lands in governing;
Who had a lady fair and ying,
Whose name was called [. .] ing.
This lady pleasant was and fair,
Bare him a son, which was his heir,
Whose name was called Roswall,
Of fairer heard I never tell;
Princes to him could not compare,
Ulisses nor Gandifere,
Achilles nor Troyalus,
Nor yet his father Priamus,
Nor the gentle Clariadus.
Nor fair Philmox, nor Achilles,
Nor Florentine of Almanie
Was never half so fair as he;
Nor knight Sir Lancelot du Lake
In fairness to him was no make;
The knight that kept the parent well,
Was not so fair as Roswall.

There lived into that countrie
Worthy noble lords three,
That to the king had done treason,
Therefore he put them in prison.
And there he held them many a day,
Till they were aged quite away,
Aged and quite o'regrown with hair,
While of their lives they did despair,
That they knew of no remedie,
But looked after death daily.
So it befell upon a day
The young prince, he went to play,
Him to play and to solace;
And so it happened in that case,
Toward the prison he is gone
And heard thir lords making their moan.
He sate down and a little staid,
To hearken what thir lords said.
They said: “Dear god, have mind of us,
Even for the sake of dear Jesus,
Who bought us with his precious blood
And for us dyed on the rood;
In this great danger, without doubt,
We know no way how to win out.
Now help us, if thy will it be,
And of this prison make us free.”

The young prince did hear their moan,
He heard their mourning and their groan.
Then to his chamber he is gone,
Heavy in heart, as sad as stone.
He sate down and did foresee,
How best thir lords might helped be;
And so he thought upon a wyle,
The king how he might best beguile
A custome then had the jaylers,
Who keeped ay the prisoners,
After the doors all locked were,
Unto the king the keyes to bear.
The king used them to lay
Under his bed-head privily.
The prince soon perceiving had,
Where the king the keyes laid.
And on a night he watch did keep,
Till that the king was fallen asleep;
He took the keyes full privilie
And to the prison gone is he,
Who did deliver thir lords three,
Bade them passe home to their countrie.
And then they swore: “By sweet Jesus,
If ever ye mister help of us,
We shall you help and you supply,
So long as we are living three.”
They thanked him right reverentlie
And to their country went in hy.
Glad was he having done the deed,
The keyes laid under his fathers head
And to his bed went quietly
And sleeped while the day did see.

The king rose up and eke the queen,
The prince and all the lords bedeen.
They went to messe and then to dine;
The jaylors all did come in syne,
Asked from the king the keyes,
Which to deliver did him please.
Then to the prison they went in fear
To give the lords their dinner there.
But when they came, all were away.
They knew not what to do nor say,
And then anone but tarrying
They went in haste and told the king.
The prisoners away were gone,
How or what way known to none.
The king was then so dollorous,
That the three lords were scaped thus,
He sayes: “O lord, how may this be,
That thir prisoners hath been made free?
Under my bed-head lay the keyes,
None knew thereof, as god me ease!
And here I make a solemn vow
Before you all my lords now:
Who ere he be, hath done the deed,
He shall be hang'd without remeed,
Or else, so soon as I him see,
My own two hands his bone shall be.”

It was reported through the town,
That the young prince the deed had done;
The word throughout the pallace ran,
Which made the king a grieved man,
When he the vow considered
And that his son had done the deed.
The most worthy king Priamus
In heart was not so dolorous,
When stout Hector, his son, was slain.
He suffered not so meikle pain
Nor in his heart was so woe,
When that his men had gone him fro,
As was the noble worthy king
For Roswall, that most princely thing.
And far more grieved was the queen;
She mourn'd and weeped with her een
And quickly to the king went she,
Who kneeling down upon her knee
Thus said: “For him, that sits on hie,
Let your sons fault forgiven be!”
“That may not be, madam!” he said,
“For I a faithfull vow have made,
That, as soon as I may him see,
My own two hands his bane shall be.
Therefore I pray you, day and night,
To keep him well out of my sight,
Till I send him to some countrie,
Where he may safely keeped be.”
And then in haste down sate the king,
Wrote letters without tarrying,
To send his son to the king of Bealm,
For to remain there in that realm,
Still to continue with the king,
Till he sent for his home-coming.
Letters in haste then soon wrote he,
Desiring the king especiallie,
For to receive his own dear sin,
Which for most trust was sent to him.
His furnishing was made ready,
And he got gold in great plenty.

The kings steward, a stalward knight,
Was made to keep him day and night,
And so his servant for to be,
To keep him well in that countrie.
The queen did look to the steward
And said: “My love, my joy, my heart,
Sir steward, now I do thee pray,
To keep my son both night and day,
And serve him both by foot and hand,
And thou shalt have both gold and land
Or yet of any other thing,
That thou'lt seek from me, or the king.”
He said: “Madam, that may not be,
But I will serve him tenderlie.”
She sayes: “My only son Roswall,
Hearken what I to thee will tell!
When thou dost come to that country,
Carry thy self right honestly,
Be courteous, genty, kind and free,
And use ay in good companie,
And if thou needest ought to spend,
Send word to me, I shall thee send.”
He took his leave then of the queen,
And of her ladies all bedeen.
Great mourning and great care they made,
When that out of the town they rade.
The gracious god mot be his guide.

So on a time as they did ride,
Side for side, hand for hand rode they,
None other saw they in the way,
Only they two in companie
Came to a river, fair to see.
The prince then said unto the knight:
“My counsell is, that here we light,
For in this place I thirst so sore,
That further can I ride no more,
Till of this water I get my fill.
Wot ye, how I may win theretill?”
The knight leapt down deliverlie,
And drank the water busilie.
He bade him light and drink also
His fill, ere he should further go.
And on his belly as he lay down
To drink the water ready bown,
The false knight took him by the feet
And vow'd to throw him in the deep,
Unlesse that he did swear an oath,
That he the gold and letters both
Should unto him resign gladly,
And his servant become truly,
To serve him well both day and night.
This oath he made to the false knight:
He the master, and he the knave;
He gave to him what he would crave.
And then anone, withoutten stay,
They mounted both and went their way,
While they came to the land of Bealm;
And had past much of that realm.
The kings pallace when they came near,
Roswall made sorry chear,
For the knight did him forbid,
Further with him for to ride.
He would fee servants in the town,
Abundance of all fashion.
Away he rode then with his gold,
Leaving poor Roswall on the mold
With not a penny in's companie,
To buy his dinner, though he should die!
So to the town in hy he rode
And in the kings pallace abode;
In his heart was great rejoycing,
Presented his letters to the king.
He read his letters hastily
And said: “Sir, welcome mot ye be;
Ye shall to me be love and dear,
So long as ye will tarry here.”
Now in the court we let him dwell,
And we will speak of fair Roswall.

Roswall was mourning on the mold,
Wanting his letters and his gold.
He sayes: “Alace, and woe is me,
For lack of food I'm like to die.
O that my mother knew my skaith,
My father and my mother baith,
For now I wot not what to do,
Nor what hand to turn me to;
Neither know I how to call me—
But I'm Dissawar what e'er befall me.”
As then he making was his moan,
Beside none but himself alone,
He lookt a little and did espy
A little house, none else hard by.
To himself he sayes quickly:
“To yonder house I will me hy,
And ask some vittals for this night,
And harbour, while the day be light.”
He stepped forth right sturdily
And to the little house went he.
He knockt a little at the door
And then went in upon the floor.
He found no creature therein,
Neither to make noise nor din,
But a silly and aged wife,
In chastity had led her life.
He sayes: “Dame, for saint July,
This night let me have harbury
And als some vittals till the morn,
For him, that was in Bethlehem born.”
She sayes: “To such meat as I have
Ye are welcome, part thereof crave!”
She set him down and gave him meat,
Even of the best that she could get,
And prayed him to make good chear:
“For you are very welcome here.
I know you are of far countrie,
For ye are seemly for to see.
Tell me your name in charitie,
And do not it deny to me!”
He sayes: “Dissawar they call me,
So was I call'd in my countrie.”
She sayes: “Dissawar, wo is me,
That is a poor name verilie!
Yet Dissawar you shall not be,
For good help you shall have of me.
I have a son, no children mo,
Who each day to the school doth go;
If ye will bide still here with me,
To him full welcome will ye be;
And daily you and he together
May go to school, and learn each other.”
He sayes: “Good dame, god you foryield,
For here I get of you good bield!”
As he and she was thus talkand,
In comes her son even at her hand.
“Good dame,” he sayes, “my mother dear,
Who's this that ye have gotten here?”
“This is a clark of far countrie,
Would fain go to the school with thee.”
He sayes: “Dear welcome mot he be,
For I have got good companie.”
And then they past to their supper,
For his sake had the better chear.
Then Dissawar fair of face
After supper said the grace,
And quickly to their beds went they
And sleeped till it was near day,
And then the morn right airly rose
And put upon them all their cloaths.
They went to school right hastilie
By that time, they could day-light see.
Into the school the master came
And asked at Dissawar his name.
He sayes: “Dissawar they call me,
So was I call'd in my countrie.”
The master said: “Now, Dissawar,
Thou shalt want neither meat nor laire.
When ever thou needest, come to me,
And I shall make you good supplie.”
Great skill of learning before he had
Into the country, where he was bred.
He had not been a moneth there
Into the school, even little maire,
But the steward of that land's king
Of Dissawar had perceiving:
He did set well his courtesie,
His nature and his great beautie.
Into his heart he greatly thought,
In service to have him, if he mought.
The steward to the wife is gane
And sayes: “God save you, fair madam,
Where got ye this child so fair,
That to this lodging makes repair?”
“Sir, they do call him Dissawar
And ay he's done, since he came here.
He is my joy, he is my heart,
For he and I shall never part.”
He sayes: “Madam, that may not be,
He must go to the court with me.”
She sayes: “Sir, it's against my will,
If ye will let him here stay still.”
The steward took Dissawar fair of face
And brought him to the king's grace.
He had not been a moneth there
Into service, or little maire,
But he was lov'd of old and ying,
As he had been a prince or king.

The king, he had a daughter fair
And no moe bairns, she was his heir.
She was by name call'd Lillian,
Of fairer forsooth I read of nane.
Not the noble French queen,
Nor yet the lady Pelicane sheen,
Nor yet Helen, that fair ladie,
Nor yet the true Philippie,
Nor yet the lady Christian
Was not so fair as Lillian.
This lusty lady Lillian
Choos'd him to be her chamberlane,
Of which the steward was full wo,
That he so soon should part him fro,
Yet would not say nay to Lillian,
Of which the lady was right fain,
And entred him in her service,
For he was both leill, true and wise.
He brake her bread and made good chear,
Filled the cup with wine and beer.
She took such comfort then of him,
She lov'd him better nor all her kin.
Aside she call'd him on a day
And thus unto him she did say:
“Now tell me, Dissawar, for charitie,
Into what country born was ye?”
He said: “I'm of a far countrie,
My father's a man of a low degree.”
“I cannot trust,” said she, “by the rood,
But you are come of noble blood,
For I know by your courtesie
And by your wonder-fair bodie,
That ye are come of noble blood,
This is my reason, by the rood!”
“Madam, by that ye may well ken,
That I am come of sober men.”
“Dissawar, my little flower,
I wish thou were my paramour.
God, sen I had thee to be king.
That I might wed you with a ring.”
In her arms she did him imbrace
And kist him thrice into that place.
He kneeled down upon his knee
And thanked that lady heartilie,
He said: “Lady, god you foreyeeld,
That ye should love so poor a child.
And I vow, lady, while I die,
To love you again most heartilie.”
Within his heart he was right glad
And he did think mair then he said.
Soon after that this lady fair
Said anone to Dissawar:
“Dissawar, I do you pray,
Cast that name from you away.
Call you Hector or Oliver:
Ye are so fair without compare;
Call your self Sir Porteous
Or else the worthy Emedus;
Call you the noble Predicase,
Who was of fair and comely face.
Because that I love you so well,
Let your name be Sir Lion-dale
Or great Florent of Albanie,
My heart, if ye bear love to me;
Or call you Lancelot du Lake
For your dearest true loves sake;
Call you the knight of arms green
For the love of your lady sheen.”
He sayes: “Dissawar they must call me,
While afterward I more do see.”
“If ye will have no other naming,
Call you a squire to the king
Or to his daughter chamberlan,
For love of his daughter Lillian.”
She laugh'd and once or twice him braced,
And to her ladies then she past.
And Dissawar was very glad
For the joy, he of the lady had.

So it befell upon a day
His father to his mother did say:
“I think right long for to hear tell
Of my fair son, my dear Roswall.
I think so long, I cannot sleep.”
With that the queen began to weep,
Who said: “Good sir, for charitie,
Let some be sent him for to see;
It is long since he from us went,
Perchance his gold is now all spent.”
As the king, his father, was to send,
There came messengers even at hand
With letters from that noble king,
Which made him glad in every thing;
But they beguiled were both, so
That none of them the case did know.
The king had written on this manner,
Desiring his son to his daughter.
The king, his father, was right glad,
That such a marriage should be made.
Therefore he every way consentit,
Even as the king by writ had sent it.
An answer to him he did send,
When he the wedding would intend,
That he might send lords of that countrie,
To bear witnesse to that marriage free.
The messengers went again home
And told their king what they had done;
And then anone, without delay,
Appointed was the marriage day,
Who sent word to the noble king,
And he without more tarrying
Sent to solemnize that day
An earle and lusty lords tway;
With them went two lusty knights
And many a gallant squire wight.

The king of Bealm caus'd make a cry
Three dayes before the marriage day,
To come and just a course of wier
Before him and his queen full dear,
To see, who best will undertake,
To just then for his ladies sake.
But when to Lillian it was told,
Wit ye well, her heart was cold,
For she lov'd none but Dissawar,
Who went and told him lesse and mair,
Said: “At yon justing you must be,
For to just for your ladie;
And if ye will not just for me,
Just for your love, where ere she be.”
He saith: “Lady, by my good fay,
I nere was bred with such a play,
For I had rather be at hunting,
Then singing, dancing or at justing.
Yet I shall stand by you, lady,
To see, who bears away the gree.”
And so they parted on that night.

And on the morn, when it was light,
Dissawar got up his way,
Went to the forrest, be it was day,
His hounds leading into his hand,
Full well triping at his command.
And when he came to the forrest,
He looked east and looked west,
He looked over the bents brown,
Where he saw neither house nor town.
The myrle and mavese shouted shrill,
The sun blinked on every hill.
In his heart he had great rejoycing
Of the birds full sweet singing.
He looked down upon the spray,
When it was nine hours of the day,
And saw a little space him fra
A knight coming, with him no mae,
Riding on a milk-white steed,
And all milk-white was his weed.
To Dissawar he came ridand
And lighted down even at his hand,
And said anone: “My full sweet thing,
I must be drest in your cloathing:
Take you my armour and my steed
And dresse you all into my weed,
And to yon justing you must faire,
To win you praise and honour mair.
When ye have done, come ye to me,
Of vennisoun ye shall have plentie.”
Then Dissawar armed him quickly,
The knight him helped, that stood by;
He stoutly lap upon his steed
And ran alane through the mied,
Till he came to the justing place.
He saw his mistres face to face,
And he saw many ladies gay
And many lords in rich array,
And he saw many a lustie knight
Justing before him in his sight.
He rade unto the justing place,
Where knights encountred face to face,
And many sadles toom'd he there,
Both of knights and many a squyer.
All men wondred, what he was,
That of justing had such praise.
The ladies heart was wonder sair,
And said: “Alace for Dissawar!
Why would he not tarry with me,
This noble justing for to see?”
And when the justing was near done,
Then he beheld the steward soon;
His heels turn upward there he made,
All that him saw, where sore afraid.
Then he unto the forrest ran,
As light as ever did a man.
The king cry'd with voice on hie:
“Go, take yon knight, bring him to me,
And whoso brings him to my hand,
Shall have an earldome of land.”
But all for nought, it was in vain,
For to the woods he rode again,
Delivered his armour and his steed
And drest himself in his own weed.
The lord had taken him vennisoun
And homeward with them made he bown,
As for help, desired none he,
Presented them to his ladie.
She sayes: “Now, wherefore, Dissawar,
Beguil'd ye me in this manner?”
He answered: “My lady dear,
Why say ye that unto me here?
Wherefore shall I come to justing?
I have no skill of such a thing.”
She sayes: “A knight with a white steed,
And all milk-white was his weed,
He hath born away the gree,
Of him is spoken great plentie;
And if ye bide the morn with me,
Ye peradventure shall him see.”
“I shall do so,” said he, “madam,
The morn I will not pass from hame.”
Then Lillian to her ladies went,
Past to their supper incontinent.

And on the morn right timously
He did rise up, be he might see,
And forth unto the forrest went,
After the night was fully spent.
When that he came to those woods green,
The place, where he before had been,
Under the shadow of a tree
He laid him down right privatlie.
The birds did sing with pleasant voice,
He thought himself in paradice,
And to bear part, for joy sang he
Even for the love of his ladie,
How she lov'd him her paramour,
And she of all the world the flower,
For pleasure of the weather fair,
So clear and pleasant was the air;
His heart was light as leaf on tree,
When that he thought on his lady.
He looked then over an hill
And saw a knight coming him till,
Having a red shield and a red spear
And all red shined his gear.
To Dissawar he came full soon,
And at his hand he lighted down,
And said: “Sir, take this horse of mine
And all my armour good and fine,
To the justing in haste ride ye,
The gracious god your guide be!”
And soon to him he reacht a spear,
Which he did take withoutten fear.
He then did ride forth merrilie,
And soon his lady can he see;
And she was cloathed all in white,
To look on hear was great delight.
He made the lady full gay halsing,
And then he went to the justing;
And if he justed well before,
Better that day by fifteen score.
He hunted the knights here and there,
Even as the hound doth hunt the hare
And many knights he bare to ground,
And some of them got their deeds wound.
Of the steward he got a sight
And on his arse he made him light,
And then unto the forrest ran,
As light as ever did a man.
The king cryed with voice on hie:
“Go, take yon knight, bring him to me,
And whoso brings him to my hand,
Shall have and earldome of land.”
But all for nought, is was in vain,
For to the woods he rade again.
When he came there, the knight he leugh:
“Have I not vennisoun enough?
Ye have been at the field all day,
And I at hunting and at play.”
Then Dissawar gave him his steed,
His shield, his armour and his weed.
His steed was all of apple-gray,
None better was, I dare well say.
Then Dissawar went home quickly
With a white hind to his lady.
When he came home, as I heard tell,
She greatly did at him marvell,
That he came not to the justing.
“Lady, grive not at such a thing!”
She sayes: “A knight with a gray steed,
And all red shined his weed,
This day hath born away the gree;
Of him is spoken great plentie.
And I have ever in my thought,
That is was you, the deed hath wrought.”
“I pray, madam, trust no such thing,
For I no skill have of justing.”
She says: “The morn go not away,
Because it is the hindmost day.”

But Dissawar full soon the morn
Got up and blew his hunting horn,
And went into the forrest soon
With hounds and ratches of renown;
And there he had great comforting
Of all the birds full sweet singing;
And then he looked up full swyth,
He saw a sight, which made him blyth.
A knight upon a stalward steed,
And glittring gold was all his weed;
His shield was red, his armour green,
Ov'r all the land it might be seen.
To Dissawar he came full soon
And at his hand he lighted down,
And said: “Sir, take this horse of mine
And all my armour good and fine,
To the justing in haste ride ye,
The gracious god your guide be.”
And even so soon as he came there,
He saw his lady, that was so fair,
And all the weed, that she did wear,
In glittring red gold did appear.
He at his lady did cast a ring,
Then past he on the justing.
He rade among them with such force,
That he dang down both man and horse.
Out through the field when that he ran,
At each stroak he dang down a man.
Sir Roland and Sir Oliver
In their justing made no such steer.
When he beheld the steward than
He dang him down, both horse and man;
Both horse and man on the ground lay,
And of his ribs were broken tway.
Then to the forrest he rade full soon,
When that the justing was all done,
As swift as falcon of his flight,
Upon a bird when he doth light.
The king cryed with voice full shrill:
“Go, take yon knight, bring him me till,
And whoso brings him to me here,
Shall have my land and daughter dear.”
But all for nought, it was in vain,
For to the woods he rade again,
Delivered his armour and his steed,
And drest himself in his own weed.
He thanked him right reverently;
Then came the other two knights in hy,
The same two knights, we spake of aire,
Who said: “O blessed master dear,
From prison you delivered us,
Wherefore mot thank you sweet Jesus.
And this is also most certain,
We promised to you again,
If ever you help of us did need,
We should perform the same with speed.
The morn the marriage should be
Of the steward, who beguiled thee;
But therefore do thou nothing fear,
The brides bed he shall not come near!”
They took their leave withoutten mair,
And he went to his lady fair.
And when that they were coming home
From the justing every one,
He went unto his lady gent,
Saluting her incontinent:
“Are ye, Dissawar, welcome to me,
That so oft hath beguiled me,
But yet I must forgive you soon
Of all, that ever you have done.”
She sayes: “A knight with a stalward steed,
And glittering gold was all his weed,
This day hath born away the gree
Of all the justing dayes three:
If to my father the truth ye tell,
That it was you, justed so well,
Then dare I surely take in hand,
He'll give you me and all the land.
The morn the marriage should be
Betwixt yon young prince and me;
But here I make a solemn vow:
I never shall have man but you;
Therefore I heartily do you pray,
The morn that ye go not away.”
“I shall do that, my lady bright,
I shall not go out of your sight.”

Then she the morn right airly rose
And put upon her all her cloaths,
Unto the king then is she gone,
Who kneeled on her knees full soon.
Then said he: “Lillian, what would ye?
Declare your mind now unto me!
If it be lawfull, ye require,
I shall it grant at your desire.”
“Grant me my asking for Christ's sake,
That is a prince to be my maik.”
“Ask on,” he sayes, “how that may be;
I have devised one for thee.”
She sayes: “They call him Dissawar:
I ask no more at you, father.”
“That asking, I do tell thee plain,
Is not befitting for thy train;
For he is but a batcheller
For ought that I do know or hear.
We know of none he is become,
But this man is a great kings son;
Therefore ye shall let such things be,
For it becomes not you nor me,
That we the kings son should forbear
And match you with a batcheller.
To me it were a great defame,
And alse to you a very shame.
Therefore, I counsell you, forbear,
And wed yon prince withoutten peer.”

And then she past the kirk untill
And married him sore against her will.
And when the marriage was done,
She past unto her chamber soon
And mourned there till dinner time,
That she was brought to hall to dine.
The king was set, and eke the queen,
The said prince and Lillian sheen.
Then every lord and gentle knight
Marched with a lady bright.
The courses came abundantlie
With bread and wine in great plenty.
At mid'st of dinner as they sat,
In came the three lords at the gate;
They did salute the king and queen
And eke fair lady Lillian sheen;
But the bride-groom, that sate near by,
To him they made no courtesie.
The king thereat great marvell had,
That they to him no reverence made,
And said: “Why do you not resign
Homage to your prince and king?”
They said: “By him, that us dear bought,
Into the hall we see him nought.”
Then all the hall they looked round,
At last him in a chamber found,
And then they kneeled down in hy,
Saluting him right reverently,
And by the hand they have him tane,
Then marvelled in hall ilk ane.
The king wondered and eke the queen,
But blyth was lady Lillian sheen.
They did enquire, how it befell,
So he the manner did them tell,
How that he thought him for to drown
And in the river cast him down,
And how his gold from him took he,
And letters, to let him go free,
How he made him an oath to take,
“Which will turn to his shame and lack,
That I a servant so should be
To him, my father sent with me”;
The which he could not well deny,
But granted all right hastily.
Then Roswall told unto the king
All the manner of the justing
And shewed to him, that it was he,
Who won the justing dayes three.
And then they took the steward soon
And hanged him high afternoon.

Then to the kirk they passed there
And married him and Lillian fair.
There is no tongue on earth, can tell
The joy, that than had Roswall,
And wit ye well, if he was fain,
Fainer was lady Lillian.
For blyther was not Meledas,
When as she married Claudias,
Nor Belsant, that most pleasant flower,
When she got Ronald to paramour,
As was this lady Lillian,
In heart she was right wonder fain.
They ate the spice and drank the wine
And past into their dancing syne.
The king danced with the queen,
Then Roswall and Lillian sheen;
Every lord and gentle knight
Danced with a lady bright.
They danced there till supper time,
So past unto their supper syne.
There was no knight, the truth to tell,
That at his supper fure right well.
When that the supper ended was,
A bishop rose and said the grace;
And syne they past to the dancing,
The minstrels play'd with pleasant spring.
Roswall danced with the queen
The king himself with Lillian sheen;
Then every lord and gentle knight
Danced with a lady bright.
The minstrels played with good will,
Till they had danced all their fill.
They ate the spice, they drank the wine,
Unto their beds they passed syne.
Roswall and Lillian glad,
First are they gone unto their bed;
But what they did, I cannot say,
I wot, they sleeped not till day.

The bridal lasted twenty dayes
With dancing, carols and many playes,
With justing and with tornament.
Then for the old wife he sent,
And to the king the manner told,
How she did in her house him hold
And sent him to school with her sin,
And how the master treated him,
How the steward did him perceive
And from the wife did him receive
And loved him even as his sin,
In service to remain with him.
The king did marvell much again,
To hear thir tidings so certain.
Then Roswall, he rewarded soon
All, that ever him good had done:
First he gave to the old wife
Gold, that lasted all her life,
And then, without delay, anone
He made a bishop of her son;
The master, that him instructed had,
His own chapland he him made,
And every one, that did him good,
He made them rich, for to conclude;
To servants he gave good rewarding,
And minstrells also for their playing.

Roswall and Lillian free
Had five bairns sickerlie,
Three sons and two daughters dear;
Right fair they were, withoutten peer.
The eldest son was king of Bealm
The second fell to Naples realm,
For he thereof was made the king
Right after his father's days ending.
The third son was made pope of Rome,
And then anone, when this was done,
The eldest daughter fell a chance,
Married the great daulphin of France,
The second on the prince of Pail.
We pray to him that vanquisht hell
And for us dyed on a tree
To grant us heaven, amen, say ye.

When all those things were past and done,
Roswall past to his mother soon;
His father long time before was dead,
But his mother of him was glad.
So Roswall and Lillian ying
Liv'd many years in good liking.
I pray to our eternal king,
To grant us heaven to our ending:
Of him I have no more to say
God send him rest till doomsday.