The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton :: :: University of Virginia Library

Syr Knyghte dyd ymounte oponn a Stede
Ne Rouncie ne Drybblette of make,
Thanne asterte for dur'sie dede
Wythe Morglaie hys Fooemenne to make blede;
Eke swythyn as wynde Trees, theyre Hartys to shake.
Al downe in a Delle, a merke dernie Delle,
Wheere Coppys eke Thighe Trees there bee,
There dyd hee perchaunce Isee
A Damoselle askedde for ayde on her kne,
An Cnyghte uncourteous dydde bie her stonde,
Hee hollyd herr faeste bie her honde.
“Discorteous Cnyghte, I doe praie nowe thou telle
Why doeste thou bee so [harsh] to thee Damselle?”
The Knyghte hym assoled eftsoones,
“Itte beethe ne mattere of thyne.
Begon, for I wayte notte thye boones.”
The Knyghte sed, “I proove on thie Gaberdyne.”
Alyche Boars enchafed to fyghte heie flies.
The Discoorteous Knyghte bee strynge, botte strynger the righte,
The dynne bee herde a myle for fuire in the fyghte.
Tyl thee false Knyghte yfallethe and dyes.

194

“Damoysel,” quod the Knyghte, “now comme thou wi me,”
“Y wotte welle,” quod shee, “I nede thee ne fere.
The Knyghte yfallen badd wolde Ischulde bee,
Butte loe he ys dedde, maie itte spede Heaven-were.”