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Northern European Mythology

Arthurian Miscellany: King Arthur's Death, by Bishop Thomas Percy [1765]

Sacred Texts  Legends/Sagas  England  Index  Previous  Next  An Arthurian Miscellany KING ARTHUR'S DEATH from RELIQUES OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY by BISHOP THOMAS PERCY 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 pittìe. 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,    &And as you prize your life, this daye O meet not with your foe in fight;    &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,    &Before the breakinge of the daye; 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,    &In readinesse there for to bee; 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,    &In readinesse there for to bee; But noe man sholde noe weapon sturre,    &But if a sworde drawne they shold see. For he durste not his unkle truste,    &Nor he his nephewe, sothe to tell; 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,    &Stunge one o' th' king's knightes on the knee; Alacke! It was a woefulle chance,    &As ever was in Christentìe. When the knighte found him wounded sore,    &And sawe the wild-worm hanginge there, His sworde he from his scabberde drewe;    &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. 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 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 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:    &And vengeance fall upon his head." "O staye, my liege," then sayd the duke;    &"O staye for love and charitìe; 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 bodìe. 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:    &"Sir Knighte, thou hast been faithfulle tryde; Nowe take my sworde 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 forgoe. "And fare thee well, thou trustye sword,    & A better neer had valiant knighte; 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,    &And there his owne sword in threwe he; 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,    &And the kings scabberd in threwe hee; 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,    &No aunswere 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. All sore astonied stood the duke,    &He stood as still, as still mote bee; Then hastened backe to telle the kinge,    &But he was gone from under the tree. But to what place he cold not tell,    &For never after hee did him spye; 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. Next: King Ryence's Challenge, by Bishop Thomas Percy [1765]