1310.] 
Lo, he seeketh out a skulle, 
Rinsed it and filled it fulle 
OF the water from the spring, 
And with piteous gait did bring. 
Meeklie then her face she lowte; 
Jnne her eynea teare upswulle, 
And she shodderde, stared abowte, 
Drank her draught, and totterd oute. 
** T beswear thee, tell me, man,” 
So the stranger-knight began, 
‘¢ What this woman’s sin hath beene, 
That thou lodest ber with teene ; 
Of her teares the silent prayre 
Canst thou from thie bosom barr? 
She is as an aungel fayre, 
Meeke and milde as children are.” 
€¢ Stranger, she is fayre ] knowe, 
~ Ones did 1 her seeming trowe, 
Hong delighted on her loke, 
Thrillde for pleasaunce when-she spoke, 
And her honeyde wordes beleevde. 
Woman’s bosom who can knowe.? 
All her winsome lokes deceevde, 
Were in falsehood’s loom yweevde. 
** For her love was givn and gone 
To a squire that here did wone, 
Whom from dole and derthe I drewe,y 
And upbred in gentil thewe. 
After wearie warre was owre, 
Hemeward ones I spedde alone, 
And at unawayted howre 
- Hastende to my wed-bed bowre. 
© Lo, her syghte mie eyne dismayde, 
Inne the clasp of ewbrice layde, 
With the squire of lowe degree ; 
Boiling did my anger gree. 
Swyite mie righteous eworde I tokey 
And his pulse of life I quayde: 
Tier I weened to have stroke 
Wile mie sowle for choler quoke. 
§* Botte forthwyth she did her throw 
At mie feete, and to the blow 
Layde her paler bosom bare. 
Ruthful shudders thro me fare, 
And the shape of helle was come 
Full of harowe to mie brow. =~ 
No, methought ; I may ne dome 
Her to the ycersed home. 
“* And I spake: Thou shalt, beldame, 
Pay the finaunce of mie shame, 
Al it be thie life I spare ; 
Tho the fiend thy sprite shuld tare, 
What have I to winne therbye? 
No: with prayre, and teare, and grame, 
Thou mayst earne thie peace oa hye: 
I ralleat not til 1 dye, 
€* Then her hedde I shavde and shore, 
Toke the gaudes and gems she wore, 
Clad her lymbes in mourning weedey 
Of her weeping had no heede ; 
Woes enow | make‘her beare. 
Wilt thou knowe her painsome stoure, 
From her lippes thou mayst it heare, 
Cheere thie spright and follow neare.” 
MontHLY Mag. No. 198. 
Original Poetry. 
357 
Downe a narrow grese they stray, 
Dank and dymme theire winding way. 
*€Is it to a toome we go?” | 
Spake the faultring stranzer tho. 
‘¢ What! doth feare alreadie cling 
To thy brest?” the knight did say: 
‘« Harke, I heare her gittern ring ; 
Hymnes of penaunce she doth sing.” 
Deeper down the vault so cold, 
Both the knights in silence stroll’d: 
Suddenlie sir Egerwene . 
Op’d a door, and she was seene, 
Bye a single lampis fleare, 
Sitting in a dungeon-hold; 
On her eye-lash blinks the cleare 
Halie God-atoning teare. 
6¢ Bitter, bitter is her wo,” 
Saith the guest as in they go. . 
Sternlie frown’d his British guide, 
And advancing to her side 
Op’d a grate with soddeyne tone, 
And began therein to sho 
Wher against the mildewed stone 
Stood a headless skeletone. 
Then he spake, ‘* Behold the man 
Who this woman’s lyking wan; 
Who by his advowtrous game 
Brought his master’s bed to shame. 
Now I ween she shuld not shrink 
Him from near her side to ban: 
From his sighte she may not slink, 
And his skull doth hold her drink.” 
Ere they left the dismal cell, 
Did the stranger wish her well, 
And a pardon for the sin 
She bewailed ther within. ‘ 
Then she spake with gentle moane 
Thro her lippes so swole and pale: — 
‘* Yeares may not my guilt atone, is 
Righteouslie mye lord hath done.” 
Now they sought their roomes: til daye 
Sleepless did the travel!er jaye, 
The remembrance of her sight 
Haunted him the livelong night ; 
How she by the lamp so wan 
‘Wept and sang and preeres did saye. 
Chilly sweats him overran, 
Thoughts of anguish him unman. 
Ere the golden howre of dawn, 
On had he his armure drawn 3 
Parting, to his host he sayd: 
«© Til tliy wife in earth be layd, 
Thro the sorrow undergone 
Leave her notin thraldom’s pawn; 
I have nere a woman knone, 
Half so fair and wo-begone.”” 
And at length her gentle guise, 
And her patient peaceful wise, 
Won sir Egerwene to ruth: 
He forgave her sad untruth. 
Heeded now his threat ne mor, 
No forgiveness to alyse ; 
jJoyed with her as of yore, 
Many werthy sons she bore, 
vhs List 
