At length his castle irksome grew, 185 II. ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON. The following ballad is given (with some corrections) from two ancient black-letter copies in the Pepys Collection: one of which is in 12mo. the other in folio. Or Hector's deeds did Homer sing; And of the sack of stately Troy, Which was sir Paris' only joy: And by my pen I will recite St. George's deeds, an English knight. Against the Sarazens so rude Fought he full long and many a day; Where many gyants he subdu'd, In honour of the Christian way: Now, as the story plain doth tell, Within that countrey there did rest A dreadful dragon fierce and fell, Whereby they were full sore opprest: 5 10 15 The grief whereof did grow so great Throughout the limits of the land, That they their wise-men did intreat To shew their cunning out of hand; What way they might this fiend destroy, That did the countrey thus annoy. The wise-mer all before the king This answer fram'd incontinent; The dragon hone to death might bring 20 25 His skin more hard than brass was found, When this the people understood, They cryed out most piteouslye, The dragon's breath infects their blood, No means there were, as they could hear, But to present some virgin clear, Whose blood his fury might aswage; Each day he would a maiden eat, For to allay his hunger great. 35 40 This thing by art the wise-men found, Which truly must observed be; Wherefore throughout the city round A virgin pure of good degree Was by the king's commission still Taken up to serve the dragon's will. Thus did the dragon every day Untimely crop some virgin flowr, Till all the maids were worn away, And none were left him to devour: Saving the king's fair daughter bright, Her father's only heart's delight. 45 50 Then came the officers to the king 55 That heavy message to declare, Which did his heart with sorrow sting; She is, quoth he,, my kingdom's heir: O let us all be poisoned here, Ere she should die, that is my dear. 60 Then rose the people presently, And to the king in rage they went; 65 And by their blood we rescued were, For us thy daughter so should die. Then fell fair Sabra on her knee, And to her father dear did say, O father, strive not thus for me, But let me be the dragon's prey; It may be, for my sake alone 70 75 Tis better I should dye, she said, Than all your subjects perish quite; 80 Perhaps the dragon here was laid, For my offence to work his spite: And after he hath suckt my gore, What hast thou done, my daughter dear, 85 It is my fault, as may appear, Which makes the gods our state to purge; Then ought I die, to stint the strife, And to preserve thy happy life. 90 |