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THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK.

SERIES THE THIRD.

BOOK II.

I.

The Legend of Sir Guy

-CONTAINS a short summary of the exploits of this famous champion, as recorded in the old story books; and is commonly entitled "A pleasant song of the valiant deeds of chivalry achieved by that noble knight Sir Guy of Warwick, who, for the love of fair Phelis, became a hermit, and dyed in a cave of craggy rocke, a mile distant from Warwick."

The history of Sir Guy, though now very properly resigned to children, was once admired by all readers of wit and taste: for taste and wit had once their childhood. Although of English growth, it was early a favourite with other nations: it appeared in French in 1525; and is alluded to in the old Spanish romance Tirante el blanco, which, it is believed, was written not long after the year 1430. See advertisement to the French translation, 2 vols. 12mo.

The original whence all these stories are extracted is a very ancient romance in old English verse, which is quoted by Chaucer as a celebrated piece even in his time (viz.),

"Men speken of romances of price, Of Horne childe and Ippotis,

Of Bevis, and Sir Guy, &c." (R. of Thop.) and was usually sung to the harp at Christmas dinners and brideales, as we learn from Puttenham's Art of Poetry, 4to., 1589.

For bad tydinges I bring you,
In Northumberlande there is no man,
But that they be slayne everychone:
For there dare no man route,
By twenty myle rounde aboute,
For doubt of a fowle dragon,
That sleath men and beastes downe.
He is blacke as any cole
Rugged as a rough fole;
His bodye from the navill upwarde
No man may it pierce it is so harde;
His neck is great as any summere ;
He renneth as swifte as any distrere;
Pawes he hath as a lyon:
All that he toucheth he sleath dead downe.
Great winges he hath to flight,
That is no man that bare him might.
There may no man fight him agayne,
But that he sleath him certayne:
For a fowler beast then is he,
Ywis of none never heard ye."

Sir William Dugdale is of opinion that the story of Guy is not wholly apocryphal, though he acknowledges the monks have sounded out his praises too hyperbolically. In particular, he gives the duel fought with the Danish champion as a real historical truth, and fixes the date of it in the year 926, ætat. Guy 67. See his Warwickshire.

This ancient romance is not wholly lost. The following is written upon the same An imperfect copy in black letter, "Im- plan as ballad V. Book I., but which is the prynted at London- -for William Copland," original, and which the copy, cannot be dein 34 sheets 4to. without date, is still preferred from the idiom preserved in the marcided. This song is ancient, as may be inserved among Mr. Garrick's collection of old plays. As a specimen of the poetry of this gin, ver. 94, 102: and was once popular, as antique rhymer, take his description of the appears from Fletcher's Knight of the Burndragon mentioned in ver. 105 of the following Pestle, Act 2, sc. ult. ing ballad:

"A messenger came to the king. Syr king, he sayd, lysten me now,

It is here published from an ancient MS. copy in the Editor's old folio volume, collated with two printed ones, one of which is in black letter in the Pepys collection.

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And all his sonnes, which were fifteene, 70

Right dangerous conquests with my hands. Who with the cruell Sarazens

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THE Editor found this Poem in his ancient folio manuscript among the old ballads; he was desirous, therefore, that it should still accompany them; and as it is not altogether devoid of merit, its insertion here will be pardoned.

Although this piece seems not imperfect, there is reason to believe that it is only a part of a much larger poem, which contained the whole history of Sir Guy: for, upon comparing it with the common story book 12mo., we find the latter to be nothing more than this poem reduced to prose: which is only effected by now and then altering the rhyme, and throwing out some few of the poetical ornaments. The disguise is so slight, that it Ver. 94, 102, doth lye, MS.

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With tedious miles he tyred his wearye feet, | Putting such vigour to his knotty beame,
And passed desart places full of danger,
That like a furnace he did smoke extreame.
At last with a most woefull wight* did meet,
A man that unto sorrow was noe stranger:
For he had fifteen sonnes, made captives all
To slavish bondage, in extremest thrall. 12

But on the ground he spent his strokes in vaine,

For Guy was nimble to avoyde them still,
And ever ere he heav'd his clubb againe, 45
Did brush his plated coat against his will:

A gyant called Amarant detaind them,
Whom noe man durst encounter for his Att such advantage Guy wold never fayle,

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race,

50

The place not farr.-Lend me thy sword, Shew itt in this, give natures wants their quoth hee,

Ile lend my manhood all thy sonnes to free.

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dewe,

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Art come to feast the crowes about my Soe to the spring he goes, and slakes his

walls?

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thirst;

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About the head, the shoulders, and the Villaine, quoth Amarant, Ile crush theo

side:

Whilst his erected clubb doth death proclaime,

Standinge with huge Colossus' spacious

streight;

Thy life shall pay thy daring toungs offence:

stride,

Erle Jonas, mentioned in the foregoing ballad.

40

Ver. 64, bulke, MS. and PCC.

Which Guy had slain before.

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