When the knighte found him wounded sore, And sawe the wild-worme hanginge there; His sworde he from his scabberde drewe : 55 A piteous case, as ye shall heare.

For when the two hostes sawe the sworde,

They joyned battayle instantlye;

Till of soe manye noble knightes,

On one side there were left but three.

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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 summer's daye.

Upon king Arthur's own partyè,

Onlye himselfe escaped there,

And Lukyn duke of Gloster free,
And the king's butler Bedevere.

And when the king beheld his knightes,
All dead and scattered on the molde;
The teares fast trickled downe his face;
That manlye face in fight so bolde.

Nowe reste yee all, brave knights, he said,
Soe true and faithful to your trust:
And must yee then, ye valiant hearts,
Be lefte to moulder into dust!

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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:

And vengeance fall upon his head.

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O staye, my liege, then sayd the duke;
O staye for love and charitie;

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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 me 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.

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95

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!

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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 bodìe.

When Mordered felt the stroke of death,
And found that he was wounded soe;

He thruste himselfe upon the speare,

And strucke the king a deadlye blowe.

Then grimmlye dyed sir Mordered,

Presentlye upon that tree :

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And bloody streames ranne from the kinge 115
Ere to the duke returned hee.

Sir Lukyn then he thus bespake,

Sir knighte, thou hast beene faithfulle tryde, Nowe take my sword Excalibar,*

That hangs so freelye by my syde:

O take my sword Excalibar,

And there into the river throwe:

For here, henceforth, benethe this tree,
All use of weapons I foregoe.

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* More commonly called Caliburn. In the folio MS. Escalberd.

And fare thee well, thou trustye sword,
A better neer had valiant knighte,
With thee full ofte, and manye 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.

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130

The duke to the river side he went,

And there his owne sword in threwe he:

But he kept back Excalibar,

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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,

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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.

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The duke then to the river went,

And the kings scabberd in threwe hee;

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But hee 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,

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When suche a knighte soe false can bee? 160

Saye, wouldst thou have thy master dead;
All for a sword, that wins thine eye:
Nowe goe againe, and throwe it in,
Or here the one of us shall dye.

The duke, all shent with this rebuke,
No auns were made unto the kinge:
But to the rivere tooke the sworde,
And threwe it far as he coulde flinge.

A hande and an arme did meete the sworde,
And flourishd three times in the air;
Then sunke benethe the renninge streme,

And of the duke was seene noe mair.

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