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"Upon Eldridge hill there groweth a thorne, The Eldridge knighte, he pricked his steed; Upon the mores brodinge; Syr Cauline bold abode:

And dare ye, syr knighte, wake there all Then either shooke his trustye speare,

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He sayth, "No cryance comes till my heart, And he then up, and the Eldridge knighte Nor, in faith, I wyll not flee;

For, cause thou minged not Christ before, The less me dreadeth thee."

Sett him in his saddle anone;

And the Eldridge knighte and his ladye, To theyr castle are they gone.

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But every knighte of his round table

Did stand both still and pale;

The Soldan strucke a third fell stroke,
Which brought the knighte on his knee;

For, whenever they lookt on the grim Soldan, Sad sorrow pierced that ladyes heart,

It made their hearts to quail.

All woe-begone was that fayre ladye,
When she sawe no helpe was nye:

She cast her thought on her owne true-love,
And the teares gusht from her eye.

Up then sterte the stranger knighte,
Sayd, "Ladye, be not affrayd;

Ile fight for thee with this grimme Soldan,
Thoughe he be unmacklye made.

"And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge sworde,

That lyeth within thy bowre,

I truste in Christe for to slay this fiende,
Thoughe he be stiff in stowre."

"Goe fetch him downe the Eldridge sworde,"
The kinge he cryde, "with speede:
Nowe, heaven assist thee, courteous knighte;
My daughter is thy meede."

The gyaunt he stepped into the lists,
And sayd, "Awaye, awaye!
I sweare, as I am the hend Soldan,
Thou lettest me here all daye."

Then forthe the stranger knight he came,
In his blacke armoure dight;
The ladye sighed a gentle sighe,
"That this were my true knighte!"

And nowe the gyaunt and knight be mett
Within the lists soe broad;

And she shriekt loud shriekings three.

The knighte he leapt upon his feete,
All recklesse of the pain;

Quoth hee, "But heaven be now my speede,
Or else I shall be slaine."

He grasped his sworde with mayne and mighte,
And spying a secrette part,

He drave it into the Soldans syde,

And pierced him to the heart.

Then all the people gave a shoute,

Whan they sawe the Soldan falle;
The ladye wept, and thanked Christ
That had reskewed her from thrall.

And nowe the kinge, with all his barons,
And downe he stepped into the listes
Rose uppe from offe his seate,

That curteous knighte to greete.

But he, for payne and lacke of bloude,
Was fallen into a swounde,

And there, all walteringe in his gore,
Lay lifelesse on the grounde.

"Come downe, come downe, my daughter deare,

Thou art a leeche of skille;

Farre lever had I lose halfe my landes

Than this good knighte sholde spille."

Downe then steppeth that fayre ladye,
To helpe him if she maye;
But when she did his beavere raise,

And now, with swordes soe sharpe of steele, "It is my life, my lord!" she sayes,

They gan to lay on load.

The Soldan strucke the knighte a stroke
That made him reele asyde;
Then woe-begone was that fayre ladye,
And thrice she deeply sighde.

The Soldan strucke a second stroke,
And made the bloude to flowe;
All pale and wan was that ladye fayre,
And thrice she wept for woe.

And shriekte and swound awaye.

Sir Cauline juste lifte up his eyes,

When he heard his ladye crye:
"O ladye, I am thine owne true love;
For thee I wisht to dye."

Then giving her one partinge looke,
He closed his eyes in death,
Ere Christabelle, that ladye milde,
Begane to drawe her breathe.

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