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An Arthurian Miscellany
On Trinitye Mondaye in the morne,

&This sore battayle was doom'd to bee,

Where manye a knighte cry'd, Well-awaye!

&Alacke, it was the more pitte.

Ere the first crowinge of the cocke,

&When as the kinge in his bed laye,

He thoughte Sir Gawaine to him came,

&And there to him these wordes did saye:

"Nowe, as you are mine unkle deare,

&Putt off the battayle, if yee maye.

"For Sir Launcelot is nowe in Fraunce,

&And with him many an hardye knighte:

Who will within this moneth be backe,

&And will assiste yee in the fighte."

The kinge then call'd his nobles all,

And told them howe Sir Gawaine came,

&And there to him these wordes did saye.

His nobles all this counsayle gave,

&That earlye in the morning, hee

Shold send awaye an herauld-at-armes,

&To aske a parley faire and free.

Then twelve good knightes King Arthur chose,

&The best of all that with him were,

To parley with the foe in field,

&And make with him agreement faire.

The king he charged all his hoste,

But noe man shold noe weapon sturre,

&Unlesse a sword drawne they shold see.

And Mordred, on the other parte,

&Twelve of his knights did likewise bringe,

The best of all his companye,

&To hold the parley with the kinge.

Sir Mordred alsoe charged his hoste,

But noe man sholde noe weapon sturre,

&But if a sworde drawne they shold see.

For he durste not his unkle truste,

Alacke! it was a woefulle case,

&As ere in Christentye befelle.

But when they were together mette,

&And both to faire accordance broughte,

And a month's league betweene them sette,

&Before the battayle sholde be foughte,

An addere crept forth of a bushe,

Alacke! It was a woefulle chance,

&As ever was in Christente.

When the knighte found him wounded sore,

&A piteous case, as ye shall heare.

For when the two hostes sawe the sworde,

Till of soe manye noble knightes,

&On one side there were left but three.

For all were slain that durst abide,

&And but some fewe that fled awaye:

Ay mee! it was a bloodye fielde,

&As ere was foughte on a summer's daye.

Upon King Arthur's own party,

&Onlye himselfe escaped there,

And Lukyn Duke of Gloster free,

&And the king's butler Bedevere.

And when the king beheld his knightes

&That manlye face in fight so bolde.

"Nowe reste yee all, brave knights," he said,

&"Soe true and faithful to your trust:

And must ye then, ye valiant hearts,

&Be lefte to moulder into dust!

"Most loyal have yee been to mee,

&Most true and faithful unto deathe:

And, oh! to rayse yee up againe,

&How freelye could I yield my breathe!

"But see, the traitor's yet alive!

&Lo where hee stalkes among the deade!

Nowe bitterlye he shall abye:

&"O staye for love and charite;

Remember what the vision spake,

&Nor meete your foe, if it may bee."

"O staye mee not, thou worthye wight,

&This debt my loyal knights I owe:

Betide my life, betide me death,

&I will avenge them of their foe."

Then straite he grasp'd his trustye speare,

&And on his horse then mounted hee:

As his butler holpe him to his horse,

&His bowels gushed to his knee.

"Alas!" then sayd the noble king,

&"That I should live this sight to see!

To see this good knight here be slaine,

&All for his love in helping mee!

He put his speare into his reste.

&And to Sir Mordred loud gan crye:

"Nowe sette thyself upon thy guarde,

&For, traitor, nowe thy death is nye."

Sir Mordred lifted up his sworde,

&And fierce to meet the king ran hee:

The king his speare he through him thrust,

&A fathom thorow his bode.

When Mordered felt the stroke of death,

&And found that he was wounded soe,

He thrust himselfe upon the speare,

&And strucke the king a deadlye blowe.

Then grimmlye dyed Sir Mordered,

&Presentlye upon that tree:

And bloody streames ranne from the kinge,

&Ere to the duke returned hee.

Sir Lukyn then he thus bespake:

Nowe take my sworde Excalibar,

"O take my sword Excalibar,

&And there into the river throwe:

For here, henceforth, benethe this tree,

&All use of weapons I forgoe.

"And fare thee well, thou trustye sword,

With thee full ofte, and many a daye,

&Have I withstood my foe in fighte.

&With this good fauchion in my hande,

&Oft have I reapd the bloody feelde:

But nowe the fatalle houre is come,

&That never more I may thee weelde."

The duke to the river side he went,

But he kept back Excalibar,

&He kept it back in privitie.

For all of coleyne was the blade,

&And all the hilte of precious stone:

"And ever alacke!" then sayd the knighte,

&"Must such a sword awaye be throwne?"

Then backe he came unto the kinge,

&Who sayd, Sir Lukyn, what did yee see?"

"Nothing, my liege, save that the winde

&Blewe oer the waters faire and free."

"O goe againe," then said the kinge,

&"O good Sir Lukyn, goe againe:

Into the rivere throwe my sword,

&Nor keepe me lingering here in paine."

The duke then to the river went,

But he kept backe Excalibar,

&And hid it undernethe a tree.

Then backe he came to tell the kinge,

&Who sayde, "Sir Lukyn, sawe ye oughte?"

"Nothinge, my liege, save that the winde

&Nowe with the angrye waters fought."

"O Lukyn, Lukyn," said the kinge,

&"Twice haste thou dealt deceytfullye:

Alacke, whom may wee ever truste,

&When suche a knighte soe false can bee!

"Saye, wouldst thou have thy master dead,

&All for a sword that wins thine eye?

Now goe againe, and throwe it in,

&Or here the one of us shall dye."

The duke, all shent with this rebuke,

But to the rivere tooke the sworde,

&And threwe it far as he coulde flinge.

A hande and an arme did meete the sworde,

Then sunke benethe the renninge streme,

&And of the duke was seene noe mair.

All sore astonied stood the duke,

Then hastened backe to telle the kinge,

&But he was gone from under the tree.

But to what place he cold not tell,

But hee sawe a barge goe from the land,

&And hee heard ladyes howle and crye.

And whether the kinge were there or not,

&Hee never knewe, nor ever colde,

For from that sad and direfulle daye,

&Hee never more was seene on molde.

King Arthur's Death