"With these words engraven, as epitaph meet,

O willow, &c.

drank poyson for potion most sweet.'

"Here lyes one,
O willow, &c.

Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"Though she thus unkindly hath scorned my love,

O willow, &c.

And carelesly smiles at the sorrowes I prove;

O willow, &c.

Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

O willow, &c.

O willow, &c.

66

I cannot against her unkindly exclaim,

Cause once well I loved her, and honoured her name.

40

Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.

"The name of her sounded so sweete in mine eare, O willow, &c.

It rays'd my heart lightly, the name of my deare ;
O willow, &c.

45

Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

"As then 'twas my comfort, it now is my griefe;

O willow, &c.

It now brings me anguish; then brought me reliefe.

O willow, &c.

Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

50

"Farewell, faire false-hearted, plaints end with my breath!

O willow, willow, willow!

Thou dost loath me, I love thee, though cause of my

death.

O willow, willow, willow!

O willow, willow, willow!

Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland."

55

VOL. I.

L

1X.

Sir Lancelot du Lake.1

This ballad is quoted in Shakspeare's Second Part of Henry IV. act ii. sc. 4. The subject of it is taken from the ancient romance of King Arthur (commonly called Morte Arthur), being a poetical translation of chap. cviii. cix. cx. in Part 1st, as they stand in ed. 1634, 4to. In the older editions the chapters are differently numbered. This song is given from a printed copy, corrected in part by folio MS.

In the same Play of 2 Henry IV., Silence hums a scrap of one of the old ballads of Robin Hood. It is taken from the following stanza of Robin Hood and the Pindar of Wakefield.

"All this beheard three wighty yeomen,

'Twas Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John: With that they espyd the jolly Pindàr As he sate under a thorne."

That ballad may be found on every stall, and therefore is not here reprinted.

WHEN Arthur first in court began,

And was approvèd king,

By force of armes great victorys wonne,
And conquest home did bring;

Then into England straight he came

5

The folio MS. copy of this ballad is so mutilated that we owe more than half the present version to the ingenuity of Percy.-Editor.

When he had rested him a while,

In play, and game, and sportt,

He said he wold goe prove himselfe,
In some adventurous sort.

He armed rode in forrest wide,

And met a damsell faire,

Who told him of adventures great,

Whereto he gave good eare.

Why shold I not?" quoth Lancelott tho,

"For that cause came I hither."

"Thou seemst," quoth she, "a knight full good,"

And I will bring thee thither,

"Wheras a mighty knight doth dwell,

That now is of great fame;

Therfore tell me what knight thou art,

And what may be thy name."

"My name is Lancelot du Lake."
Quoth she, "It likes me than;
Here dwelles a knight who never was
Yet matcht with any man;

Ver. 18, to sportt. MS.

Ver. 29, where is often used by our

old writers for whereas: here it is just the contrary.

20

"Sir Knight," then sayd Sir Lancelòtt,

66

'Bring me that horse-load hither,

And lay him downe, and let him rest;
Weel try our force together.

For, as I understand, thou hast,

50

Soe far as thou art able,
Done great despite and shame unto
The knights of the Round Table."

55

"If thou be of the Table Round,"

Quoth Tarquin, speedilye,

"Both thee and all thy fellowship

I utterly defye."

"That's over much," quoth Lancelott tho, "Defend thee by and by."

60

They sett their speares unto their steeds,

And each att other flye.

They coucht their speares, (their horses ran,
As though there had been thunder);

65

And strucke them each immidst their shields,
Wherewith they broke in sunder.

They wounded were, and bled full sore,
They both for breath did stand,

And leaning on their swordes awhile,
Quoth Tarquine, "Hold thy hand,

"And tell to me what I shall aske;"

66

'Say on," quoth Lancelot tho.

"Thou art," quoth Tarquine, "the best knight That ever I did know;

80

"And like a knight that I did hate;

85

Soe that thou be not hee,

I will deliver all the rest,

And eke accord with thee."

"That is well sayd," quoth Lancelott tho,

"But sith it must be soe,

90

"Thy wish thou hast, but yet unknowne;

2 Rashing seems to be the old hunting term to express the stroke made by the wild-boar with his fangs. To rase has apparently a meaning something similar. See Mr. Steevens' Note to King Lear, act iii. sc. 7 (ed. 1793, vol. xiv. p. 193), where the quartos read,

"Nor thy fierce sister

In his anointed flesh rash boarish fangs."

So in King Richard III., act iii. sc. 2 (vol. x., pp. 567, 583),

"He dreamt

To-night the boar had rased off his helm."