The Oxford Book of Ballads :: 3. Sir Cawline

3. Sir Cawline

I

Jesus, Lord mickle of might,
That dyed for us on roode,
So maintaine us in all our right
That loves true English blood!

II

Sir Cawline [was an English knight]
Curteous and full hardye;
[And our King has lent him] forth to fight,
Into Ireland over the sea.

III

And in that land there dwells a King,
Over all the bell does beare;
And he hath a ladye to his daughter,
Of fashion[27] she hath no peere;
Knights and lordes they woo’d her both,
Trusted to have been her feere[28].

IV

Sir Cawline loves her best of onie,
But nothing durst he say
To discreeve[29] his councell to no man,
But dearlye loved this may[30].

V

Till it befell upon a day,
Great dill[31] to him was dight[32];
The mayden’s love removed his mind,
To care-bed[33] went the knight.

VI

One while he spread his armes him fro,
And cryed so pittyouslye:
‘For the mayden’s love that I have most minde
This day shall comfort mee,
Or else ere noone I shall be dead!’
Thus can Sir Cawline say.

VII

When the parish mass that itt was done,
And the King was bowne[34] to dine,
Says, ‘Where is Sir Cawline, that was wont
To serve me with ale and wine?’

VIII

But then answer’d a curteous knight
Fast his hands wringÌnge:
‘Sir Cawline’s sicke and like to be dead
Without and a good leechÌnge[35].’

IX

‘Feitch ye downe my daughter deere,
She is a leeche full fine;
Ay, and take you doe and the baken bread,
And [drinke he of] the wine soe red,
And looke no daynty’s for him too deare,
For full loth I wo’ld him tine[36].’

X

This ladye is gone to his chamber,
Her maydens following nye;
‘O well,’ she saith, ‘how doth my lord?’
‘O sicke!’ againe saith hee.

XI

‘But rise up wightlye[37], man, for shame!
Ne’er lie here soe cowardlye!
Itt is told in my father’s hall
For my love you will dye.’—

XII

‘Itt is for your love, fayre ladye,
That all this dill I drie;
For if you wo’ld comfort me with a kisse,
Then were I brought from bale to bliss,
No longer here wo’ld I lye.’—

XIII

‘Alas! soe well you know, Sir Knight,
I cannot be your feere.’—
‘Yet some deeds of armes fain wo’ld I doe
To be your bacheleere.’—

XIV

‘On Eldritch Hill there grows a thorn,
Upon the mores[38] brodinge[39];
And wo’ld you, Sir Knight, wake there all night
To day of the other morninge?

XV

‘For the Eldritch King, that is mickle of might,
Will examine[40] you beforne[41]:
There was never a man bare his life away
Since the day that I was born.’—

XVI

‘But I will for your sake, ladye,
Walk on the bents[42] soe browne,
And I’ll either bring you a readye token,
Or I’ll ne’er come to you again.’

XVII

But this ladye is gone to her chamber,
Her maydens following bright;
And Sir Cawline’s gone to the mores soe broad,
For to wake there all night.

XVIII

Unto midnight that the moone did rise
He walkÈd up and downe,
And a lightsome bugle then heard he blow
Over the bents so browne;
Sayes he, ‘And if cryance[27] fashion = form, beauty.

[28] feere = mate, consort.

[29] discreeve = discover.

[30] may = maid.

[31] dill = dole, grief.

[32] dight = ordained.

[33] care-bed = sick-bed.

[34] bowne = made ready, gone.

[35] without and, &c. = unless he have a good leech, or physician.

[36] tine = lose.

[37] wightlye = briskly, stoutly.

[38] mores = moors.

[39] brodinge = growing, sprouting.

[40] examine = put to the test.

[41] beforne = before (morning).

[42] bents = rough grasses.

[43] cryance = yielding, cowardice.

[44] ming’d = mentioned, spoke the name of.

[45] slode = split.

[46] good loade = heavily.

[47] aukeward = back-handed.

[48] lay land = lea, land not under cultivation; here = ground.

[49] he’s never = he will never.

[50] middle-earth = this earth, as midway between heaven and hell.

[51] lay = law, faith.

[52] brent = smooth.

[53] betaken = given, made over.

[54] venison = i. e. deer-forests.

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