Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=346080" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sir Cauline</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The First Part.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In Ireland, ferr over the sea,<br>There dwelleth a bonnye kinge;<br>And with him a yong and comlye knighte,<br>Men call him Syr Cauline.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The kinge had a ladye to his daughter,<br>In fashyon she hath no peere;<br>And princely wightes that ladye wooed<br>To be theyr wedded feere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Syr Cauline loveth her best of all,<br>But nothing durst he saye;<br>Ne descreeve his counsayl to no man,<br>But deerlye he lovde this may.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till on a daye it so beffell<br>Great dill to him was dight;<br>The maydens love removde his mynd,<br>To care-bed went the knighte.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One while he spred his armes him fro,<br>One while he spred them nye:<br>'And aye! but I winne that ladyes love,<br>For dole now I mun dye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And whan our parish-masse was done,<br>Our kinge was bowne to dyne;<br>He says, 'Where is Syr Cauline,<br>That is wont to serve the wyne?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then aunswerde him a courteous knighte,<br>And fast his handes gan wringe:<br>'Sir Cauline is sicke, and like to dye,<br>Without a good leechinge.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Fetche me downe my daughter deere,<br>She is a leeche fulle fine; <br>Goe take him doughe, and the baken bread,<br>And serve him with the wyne soe red;<br>Lothe I were him to tine.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fair Christabelle to his chaumber goes,<br>Her maydens follwyng nye:<br>'O well,' she sayth, 'How doth my lord?'<br>'O sicke, thou fayr ladye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Nowe ryse up wightlye, man, for shame,<br>Never lye soe cowardlee;<br>For it is told in my fathers halle,<br>You dye for love of mee.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Fayre ladye, it is for your love<br>That all this dill I drye:<br>For if you wold comfort me with a kisse,<br>Then were I brought from bale to blisse,<br>No lenger wold I lye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Syr Knighte, my father is a kinge,<br>I am his onlye heire;<br>Alas! and well you knowe, Syr Knighte,<br>I never can be youre fere.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O ladye, thou art a kinges daughter,<br>And I am not thy peere;<br>But let me doe some deedes of armes<br>To be your bacheleere.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Some deeds of armes if thou wilt doe,<br>My bacheleere to bee,<br>(But ever and aye my heart wold rue,<br>Giff harm shold happe to thee,)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Upon Eldridge hill there groweth a thorne,<br>Upon the mores brodinge;<br>And dare ye, Syr Knighte, wake there all nighte,<br>Untill the fayre morninge?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'For the Eldridge knighte, so mickle of mighte,<br>Will examine you beforne;<br>And never man bare life awaye,<br>But he did him scath and scorne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'That knighte he is a foul paynim,<br>And large of limb and bone;<br>And but if heaven may be thy speede,<br>Thy life it is but gone.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Nowe on the Eldridge hilles Ile walke, <br>For thy sake, fair laide;<br>And Ile either bring you a ready token,<br>Or Ile never more you see.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The lady is gone to her own chaumbere,<br>Her maydens following bright;<br>Syr Cauline lope from care-bed soone,<br>And to the Eldridge hills is gone,<br>For to wake there all night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unto midnight, that the moone did rise,<br>He walked up and downe;<br>Then a lightsome bugle heard he blowe<br>Over the bents soe browne:<br>Quothe hee, 'If cryance come till my heart,<br>I am ffar from any good towne.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And soone he spyde on the mores so broad<br>A furyous wight and fell;<br>A ladye bright his brydle led,<br>Clad in a fayre kyrtell:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And soe fast he called on Syr Cauline,<br>'O man, I rede thee flye,<br>For, 'but' if cryance come till thy heart,<br>I weene but thou mun dye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He sayth, ''No' cryance comes till my heart,<br>Nor, in faith, I wyll not flee;<br>For, cause thou minged not Christ before,<br>The less me dreadeth thee.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Eldridge knighte, he pricked his steed;<br>Syr Cauline bold abode:<br>Then either shooke his trustye speare,<br>And the timber these two children bare<br>Soe soone in sunder slode.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then tooke they out theyr two good swordes,<br>And layden on full faste,<br>Till helme and hawberke, mail and sheelde,<br>They all were well-bye brast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Eldridge knight was mickle of might,<br>And stiffe in stower did stande;<br>But Syr Cauline with a 'backward' stroke,<br>Has smote off his right-hand;<br>That soone he, with paine and lacke of bloud, <br>Fell downe on that lay-land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then up Syr Cauline lift his brande<br>All over his head so hye:<br>'And here I sweare by the holy roode,<br>Nowe, caytiffe, thou shalt dye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then up and came that ladye brighte,<br>Faste wringing of her hande:<br>'For the maydens love that most you love,<br>Withold that deadlye brande:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'For the maydens love that most you love, <br>Now smyte no more I praye;<br>And aye whatever thou wilt, my lord,<br>He shall thy hests obaye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Now sweare to mee, thou Eldridge knighte,<br>And here on this lay-land,<br>That thou wilt believe on Christ his laye,<br>And thereto plight thy hand;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And that thou never on Eldridge come<br>To sporte, gamon, or playe;<br>And that thou here give up thy armes<br>Until thy dying daye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Eldridge knighte gave up his armes<br>With many a sorrowfulle sighe;<br>And sware to obey Syr Caulines hest,<br>Till the tyme that she shold dye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he then up and the Eldridge knighte<br>Sett him in his saddle anone;<br>And the Eldridge knighte and his ladye,<br>To theyr castle are they gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then he tooke up the bloudy hand,<br>That was so large of bone,<br>And on it he founde five ringes of gold<br>Of knightes that had been slone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then he tooke up the Eldridge sworde,<br>As hard as any flint:<br>And he tooke off those ringes five,<br>As bright as fyre and brent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Home then pricked Syr Cauline,<br>As light as leafe on tree;<br>I wys he neither stint ne blanne,<br>Till he his ladye see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then downe he knelt upon his knee,<br>Before that lady gay:<br>'O ladye, I have bin on the Eldridge hills:<br>These tokens I bring away.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Now welcome, welcome, Syr Cauline,<br>Thrice welcome unto mee,<br>For now I perceive thou art a true knighte,<br>Of valour bolde and free.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O ladye, I am thy own true knighte,<br>Thy hests for to obaye;<br>And mought I hope to winne thy love' --<br>No more his tonge colde say.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The ladye blushed scarlette redde,<br>And fette a gentill sighe:<br>'Alas! Syr Knight, how may this bee,<br>For my degree's soe highe?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But sith thou hast hight, thou comely youth,<br>To be my batchilere,<br>Ile promise, if the I may not wedde,<br>I will have none other fere.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then shee held forthe her lilly-white hand<br>Towards that knighte so free;<br>He gave to it one gentill kisse,<br>His heart was brought from Lale to blisse,<br>The teares sterte from his ee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But keep my counsayl, Syr Cauline,<br>Ne let no man it knowe;<br>For, and ever my father sholde it ken,<br>I wot he wolde us sloe.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From that daye forthe, that ladye fayre<br>Lovde Syr Cauline the knighte:<br>From that daye forthe, he only joyde<br>Whan shee was in his sight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, and oftentimes they mette<br>Within a fayre arboure,<br>Where they, in love and sweet daliaunce,<br>Past manye a pleasaunt houre.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Part the Second</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Everye white will have its blacke,<br>And everye sweete its sowre:<br>This founde the Ladye Christabelle<br>In an untimely howre.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For so it befelle, as Syr Cauline<br>Was with that ladye faire,<br>The kinge, her father, walked forthe<br>To take the evenyng aire:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And into the arboure as he went<br>To rest his wearye feet,<br>He found his daughter and Syr Cauline<br>There sette in daliaunce sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The kinge hee sterted forthe, i-wys,<br>And an angrye man was hee:<br>'Nowe, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe,<br>And rewe shall thy ladie.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then forthe Syr Cauline he was ledde,<br>And throwne in dungeon deepe:<br>And the ladye into a towre so hye,<br>There left to wayle and weepe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The queene she was Syr Caulines friend,<br>And to the kinge sayd shee:<br>'I praye you save Syr Caulines life,<br>And let him banisht bee.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Now, dame, that traitor shall be sent<br>Across the salt ssea fome:<br>But here I will make thee a band,<br>If ever he come within this land,<br>A foule deathe is his doome.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All woe-begone was that gentil knight<br>To parte from his ladye;<br>And many a time he sighed sore,<br>And cast a wistfulle eye:<br>'Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte,<br>Farre lever had I dye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Faire Christabelle, that ladye bright,<br>Was had forthe of the towre;<br>But ever shee droopeth in her minde,<br>As, nipt an ungentle winde,<br>Doth some faire lillye flowre.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And ever shee doth lament and weepe<br>To tint her lover soe:<br>'Syr Cauline, thou little think'st on mee,<br>But I will still be true.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Manye a kinge, and manye a duke,<br>And lorde of high degree,<br>Did sue to that fayre ladye of love;<br>But never shee wolde them nee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When manye a daye was past and gone,<br>Ne comforte she colde finde,<br>The kynge proclaimed a tourneament, <br>To cheere his daughters mind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there came lords, and there came knights,<br>Fro manye a farre countrye,<br>To break a spere for theyr ladyes love,<br>Before that faire ladye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And many a ladye there was sette,<br>In purple and in palle;<br>But faire Christabelle, soe woe-begone,<br>Was the fayrest of them all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then manye a knighte was mickle of might,<br>Before his ladye gaye;<br>But a stranger wight, whom no man knewe,<br>He wan the prize eche daye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His acton it was all of blacke,<br>His hewberke and his sheelde;<br>Ne noe man wist whence he did come,<br>Ne noe man knewe where he did gone,<br>When they came out the feelde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now three days were prestlye past<br>In feates of chivalrye,<br>When lo, upon the fourth morninge,<br>A sorrowfulle sight they see:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A hugye giaunt stiffe and starke,<br>All foule of limbe and lere,<br>Two goggling eyen like fire farden,<br>A mouthe from eare to eare.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Before him came a dwarffe full lowe,<br>That waited on his knee;<br>And at his back five heads he bare,<br>All wan and pale of blee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Sir,' quoth the dwarffe, and louted lowe,<br>'Behold that hend Soldain!<br>Behold these heads I beare with me!<br>They are kings which he hath slain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The Eldridge knight is his own cousine,<br>Whom a knight of thine hath shent:<br>And hee is come to avenge his wrong:<br>And to thee, all thy knightes among,<br>Defiance here hath sent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But yette he will appease his wrath,<br>Thy daughters love to winne; <br>And, but thou yeelde him that fayre mayd,<br>Thy halls and towers must brenne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Thy head, Syr King, must goe with mee,<br>Or else thy daughter deere;<br>Or else within these lists soe broad,<br>Thou must finde him a peere.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The king he turned him round aboute, <br>And in his heart was woe:<br>'Is there never a knighte of my round table<br>This matter will undergoe?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Is there never a knighte amongst yee all<br>Will fight for my daughter and mee?<br>Whoever will fight yon grimme Soldan,<br>Right fair his meede shall bee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'For hee shall have my broad laylands,<br>And of my crowne be heyre;<br>And he shall winne faire Christabelle<br>To be his wedded fere.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But every knighte of his round table<br>Did stand both still and pale;<br>For, whenever they lookt on the grim Soldan,<br>It made their hearts to quail. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">All woe-bgone was that fayre ladye,<br>When she sawe no helpe was nye;<br>She cast her thought on her owne true-love,<br>And the teares gusht from her eye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Up then sterte the stranger knighte,<br>Sayd, 'Ladyye, be not affrayd;<br>Ile fight for thee with this grimme Soldan,<br>Thoughe he be unmacklye made.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge sworde,<br>That lyeth within thy bowre,<br>I truste in Christe for to slay this fiende,<br>Thoughe he be stiff in stowre.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Goe fetch him downe the Eldridge sword,'<br>The kinge he cryde, 'with speede:<br>Nowe heaven assist thee, courteous knighte;<br>My daughter is thy meede.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The gyaunt he stepped into the lists, <br>And sayd, 'Awaye, awaye:<br>I sweare, as I am the hend Soldan,<br>Thou lettest me here all daye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then forthe the stranger knight he came,<br>In his blacke armoure dight:<br>The ladye sighed a gentle sighe,<br>'That this were my true knighte!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And nowe the gyaunt and knighte be mett<br>Within the lists soe broad; <br>And now, with swordes soe sharpe of steele,<br>They gan to lay on load.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Soldan strucke the knighte a stroke,<br>That made him reele asyde:<br>Then woe-begone wast hat fayre ladye,<br>And thrice she deeply sighde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Soldan strucke a second stroke,<br>And made the bloude to flowe:<br>All pale and wan was that ladye fayre,<br>And thrice she wept for woe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Soldan strucke a third fell stroke,<br>Which brought the knighte on his knee:<br>Sad sorrow pierced that ladyes heart,<br>And she shriekt loud shriekings three.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The knighte he leapt upon his feete,<br>All recklesse of the pain:<br>Quoth hee, 'But heaven be now my speede,<br>Or else I shall be slaine.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He grasped his sworde with mayne and mighte,<br>And spying a secrette part,<br>He drave it into the Soldan's syde,<br>And pierced him to the heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then all the people gave a shoute,<br>Whan they sawe the Soldan falle:<br>The ladye wept, and thanked Christ<br>That had reskewed her from thrall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And nowe the kinge, with all his barons,<br>Rose uppe from offe his seate,<br>And downe he stepped into the listes<br>That curteous knighte to greete.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But he, for payne and lacke of bloude,<br>Was fallen into a swounde,<br>And there, all walteringe in his gore,<br>Lay lifelesse on the grounde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Come downe, come downe, my daughter deare,<br>Thou art a leeche of skille;<br>Farre lever had I lose halfe my landes,<br>Than this good knighte sholde spille.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Downe then steppeth that fayre ladye,<br>To helpe him if she maye:<br>But when she did his beavere raise,<br>'It is my life, my lord,' she sayes,<br>And shriekte and swound awaye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Syr Cauline juste lifte up his eyes,<br>When he hearde his ladye crye:<br>'O ladye, I am thine owne true love;<br>For thee I wisht to dye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then giving her one partinge looke, <br>He closed his eyes in death<br>Ever Christabelle, that ladye milde,<br>Begane to drawe her breathe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when she found her comelye knighte<br>Indeed was dead and gone,<br>She layde her pale, cold cheeke to his, <br>And thus she made her moane:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O staye, my deare and onlye lord,<br>For mee, thy faithfulle feere;<br>'Tis meet that I shold followe thee,<br>Who hast bought my love so deare.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then fayntinge in a deadlye swoune,<br>And with a deep-fette sighe,<br>That burst her gentle heart in twayne,<br>Faire Christabelle did dye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anonymous+Olde+English">Anonymous Olde English</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=346080" data-title="Sir Cauline de Anonymous Olde English" data-description="The First Part.


In Ireland, ferr over the sea,
There dwelleth a bonnye kinge;
And with him a yong and comlye knighte,
Men call him Syr Cauline.

The kinge had a ladye to his daughter,
In fashyon she hath no peere;
And princely wightes that ladye..."></div>
</div>
</div>