The Famous Life and Death of King Arthur

No age hath bin, since nature first began
To worke Ioue’s wonders, but hath left behind
Some deeds of praise for Mirrours vnto man,
Which more then threatful lawes in men inclind,
To tread the paths of praise excites the mind,
Mirrours tie thoughts to vertues due respects,
Examples hasten deeds to good effects.

'Mongst whom, that I my storie so renown’d
May for a Mirrour to the world commend,
Summon’d the first by fame’s shrill trumpets sound:
Loe, I am come on earth to find a friend,
Who his assistance vnto me may lend,
And with his pen paint out my historie
A perfect Mirrour of true maiestie.

In which the truth of my corrupted storie,
Defac’d by fleeting time’s inconstant pen
I will declare, nor to aduance my glorie
Will I present vnto the view of men
Ought, but the scope of what the truth hath ben:
Meane time thou pen-man of Mnemosynie,
Giue heedfull eare vnto my tragedie.

As from aire-threatning tops of cedars tall
The leaues, that whilome were so fresh and greene,
In healthlesse autumne to the ground do fall,
And others in their roomes at spring are seene:
So proudest states amongst the states of men
Now mount the loftie top of fortune’s wheele,
Now fall againe, now firmely stand, now reele.

Foure times the state of this same noble Ile
Hath changed been by froward fate’s decree,
And on foure nations fortune’s front did smile,
Gracing thir high attempts with victorie
Ouer this empire of Great Britanie:
Yet none but one the scepter long did sway,
Whose conquering name endures vntill this day.

First the proud Roman Cæsar did oppresse
This land with tributarie seruitude:
Next those two Saxon brethren heauen did blesse,
Who in our Brittish blood their blades imbru’d,
And to their lordly will this land subdu’d:
Thirdly the Dane did heere long time remaine,
And lastly Normans ouer vs did raigne.

Thus seest thou fortune’s vnimpeached force,
And what it hath been in our Britaine state:
By this thou seest her wheeles inconstant course,
And how on earth nor prince, nor potentate,
Can long withstand her ruine-thirsting hate,
Which my true storie’s sad catastrophe
Vnto the sonnes of men can testifie.

I am that Arthur, who on honor’s wing
Did mount fame’s palace 'mongst the worthies nine
Fourth from false Vortigerne th’vsurping king:
Who, that he might with strong allies combine
His shaken state, which then began decline,
Wretch that he was into this land did bring
The Saxons with hight Hengist their false king.

The sonne I was of Vter that stout knight,
Pendragon called for his policie,
Not in ignoble birth brought forth to light,
Though foes false imputation vilifie
My royall birth with taint of bastardie:
But in true wedlocke’s bands a noble dame
Bore me, the fruit of loue without defame.

Whose former husband Goilen, that proud duke,
At Duuilioc in fight my sire strooke dead:
And 'mongst his spoiles Igren the faire he tooke,
With whom he did ascend loue’s amorous bed
And lest the fruit of his delight new bred
The time might turne to shame in lawlesse birth,
He took the dame to wife, who brought me forth.

By peeres consent I in my youth began
Vpon the throne the supreame sway to beare:
And at that time against the boldest man,
That breath’d on earth my spirit did not feare,
In single fight the combatant t’appeare,
Skilfull I was in knowledge of all fights,
That then was vsed amongst martiall knights.

And at that time my close-neere fighting men,
The frame of euery bloodie fight to know,
In martiall feates, haue exercised been,
And euery one would ’gainst the forren foe,
With emulation striue their deeds to show,
In courts where kings, adore Bellonae’s shrine,
There the bright blaze of chiualrie will shine.

Vpon the mind, whose glorie-thirsting heart,
By deedes of armes did at true honor aime,
Such edge I set, that from each forren part,
The brood of Mars to Britaine’s Arthur came,
Of him to purchase the reward of fame:
And take that order, that I then did found,
Which till this day men call the table round.

Vpon this table’s superficiall part
Statutes ingrauen were by my decree,
Vnto the which each man of valiant hart,
That of this famous fellowship would bee
At Camelot by oath did first agree,
And call’d they were amongst our chiualrie
Armes, seuen religious deeds of charitie.

But where is now this honor’d dignitie,
That wont to be the care of noble kind?
Or is it dead, or will nobilitie
Let that, which only was to it assign’d,
Be now polluted by the baser mind?
Alas the while, that once the best reward
To vertuous deeds is now of no regard.

No golden churle, no elbow-vanting Iacke,
No peasant base, nor borne of dunghill mould,
Could find such treasure in his pedler’s packe
To purchase that, which fame on high did hold
For true desart, aboue the reach of gold:
This order then dame vertue kept in store
For such, as did her sacred selfe adore.

In this new flourish of my flowring spring,
When honor’s hopefull buds appear’d in mee,
And promis’d goodly fruit in time to bring,
My forward thoughts being set on fier, to free
My natiue land from Saxon tyrannie:
With phantasie still working ’gainst the foe,
In sleepe this spectacle to me did show.

As I (me thought) did sit on royall throne
With peeres about me set, a ladie faire
In presence came and making pitious mone,
Tearing the tresses of her golden haire,
And wringing both her hands, as if despaire
Had her bereft of hope her griefe to show,
With teares did vtter forth these words of woe

“Behold,” quoth she, “behold me wretched wight,
The forlorne ladie of this noble Ile,
From towring state cast downe by foes despight,
And of an empresse, which I was ere while,
Of Saxon yoke now made a subiect vile:
What bootes it what I was, sith now I am
The scorne of fortune and the Briton’s shame?

O, noble prince, vnsheath thy conquering blade
And saue that little, which is left to mee,
Left not for aye my antient glorie vade,
Nor let me subiect liue, as thus you see,
To pride of barbarous foes, but set me free:”
Thus ended she her plaint, and in sad plight
With piteous lookes departed from my sight.

The phantasie presenting euerie howre
Th’apperance of such thoughts did so excite
My furie ’gainst the foe, that all my powre
I muster’d for the field, and Howel, hight
Of litle Brittaine prince, a valiant knight,
Allide to me by blood, did crosse the maine
To purchase honor with his martiall traine.

Here could I sing the deeds of warre to thee,
Whereby my famous conquests thou should know,
How heauen did grace me with such victorie,
That in twelue battailes I did ouerthrow
The mightie forces of my warlike foe;
And by my valor, how I did expell
Those Saxon foes, which here long time did dwell.

Hight Colgrim greatest amongst Saxon kings
I first subdu’d with honour’d victorie,
But happie he vpon the wind-like wings
Of hastie speed to saue himselfe did flie
Ouer the seas broad backe to Germanie:
Yet could he not escape vntimely death,
But here in Britaine breath’d he his last breath.

Vnto his friends, when he in safetie came,
He could not shun th’edict of destinie:
But backt by them he proudly did proclame
T’inferre swift vengeance on our Britannie,
If he were not restor’d to dignitie:
Which I disdain’d and did prepare for fight:
Because to that he claim’d he had no right.

And in a faire field by those bathes apart,
Which Bladud sometimes king of Britanie
Had founded by the depth of powerfull art,
My tents I pight: for there did fates decree,
That great king Colgrim’s ouerthrow should bee:
Whose mightie force my folke at first did dread,
Which by three kings was in Battalia led.

For first did Bladulf brother to this king,
Conduct the vaunt gard for this valiancie,
Next Chelderick vnto the field did bring
His Germaine powers, the strokes of death to trie,
Who was a mightie prince in Germanie,
And in the rereward Colgrim’s selfe did lead
The Picts to fight, a people full of dread.

The battailes ioin’d, each aduerse part opposde
Their strength to strength, the aire with dreadfull sound
Of souldier’s shouts did echo as they closde,
And each one equallie gaue wound for wound,
Till with the foes fresh strength, which did abound,
My men opprest to flight began to fall,
Whom thus with mouing words I did recall.

“Yee emptie harted sonnes of Brute,” quoth I,
“Not worthie valiant Brutus farre-spred name,
What great defame of your big formes will flie
Throughout this world’s whole round, if this great shame
Of shamefull flight, yee doe not streight reclaime?
Where will ye boldly fight and scorne recoile,
If not in fight for your owne natiue soyle?

Are these th’effects of those same glorious words,
With which of late your tongues did oft abound,
Saying one hundred with their powerfull swords
A thousand hartlesse foemen should confound,
To your owne shame, alas, this shall redown’d,
Vnlesse with speed ye turne couragious hed,
And make them flie from whom yee lately fled.”

All th’host applauding my high valiancie
With deepe impression of my words being driuen,
Did break into the midst of th’enemie,
Where cuffe for cuffe on either side was giuen,
The noise of which flew ecchoing vp to heauen,
And with the thunder claps of clashing armes
Made aire to sigh with sound of humane armes.

The skirmish burn’d, both parts did equall beare
Their heads aloft in this daye’s bloodie fight,
All stood it out, none stoopt to seruile feare,
Their swords made mutuall wounds, and in their sight
Their friends each where in field lay reft of light:
The earth made drunke with blood did then abound,
With fruites of death thick strow’d vpon the ground.

But when the trampling steedes of heauen’s bright sun
Fell to the seas and left Olympus steepe,
And when the king of flames began to run
His golden head into the wauie deep,
When out of east bright Venus gan to peep,
Our strength increast, which conquest did diuine,
Our foes shrunke back, their valor did decline.

For when king Colgrim by my launce strook dead,
And Bladuff by my power cast downe as low,
With their gigantike bulkes the earth did spread,
The foes with one consent their backes did show,
To saue each other in that common woe:
With whom hight Cheldrike fled, who for the spoile
Of this our land had left his natiue soile.

Who being shrouded with the night’s black wing,
Trusting that she would his designements hide,
Tooke towards the marrin strand, in hope to bring
His folk disperst, in darknesse vndescride,
Vnto his ships, which then at shore did ride:
But death betwixt them and their nauie stood,
Our natiue earth drunk vp their stranger blood.

The stout duke Cador, that illustrate knight,
Pursu’d the flier till the rising sun
Descride the foes, who turning from their flight,
Both parts stood firme, the fight afresh begun:
But Cheldrik lost, the conquest Cador wonne,
Whose spoilfull sword did spare no foes in death,
For Cheldrick’s self did there expire his breath.

Meane time to rescue that bold Britaine king,
Prince Howell, king of little Britanie,
Who ore the gulfie flood his folke did bring,
T’assist vs gainst our common enemie:
Towards Scotland’s bounds wee marched speedilie,
Where gainst the barbarous Picts he was the barre,
While gainst the Saxon we did wage the warre.

But he vnable to sustaine their force,
Which th’Irish Guillamore, th’assistant king,
In person did support with foote and horse,
Of whose alarmes the countrie round did ring,
Did send to vs requiring vs to bring
Our powers, with expedition to suppresse
The foe’s haut pride, and succour his distresse.

Of which when I did heare, as from the skie
A tempest stooping on the deepe’s profound,
Hurles waues on waues in heapes, and makes them flie
Before his rage, so with the horrid sound
Of dreadfull warre into the Pictish bound
I entred with my host, and in the way
For fire and sword made all the passage pray.

The foe’s stout pride we did in field subdue,
And Gwillamore, that did escape the fight,
To his owne kingdome’s bounds we did pursue,
Where we did bring him to his heart’s despight,
Vpon his knees by warre’s impulsiue might,
Forcing him yeeld obedience to our crowne,
By golden tribute yearely paid vs downe.

After this good successe, perceiuing well,
That heauen with sunshine lookes grac’d our affaires,
My hopefull heart with glorie gan to swell,
Bidding me seeke by fame in forren warres,
To fixe my name amongst the golden starres,
And leaue a name on earth to liue for aye,
When rapt in mould my limbes forgotten lay.

This stout suggestion of my mightie mind,
Made me despise foule ease and pleasures light,
Which softens th’heart, strikes strong desier blind,
Drownes all eternitie in depth of night,
And leaues reproch for prise of such delight:
For fame liues not, except for vertue’s merit,
Deeds of delite on earth no place inherit.

A king, that only liues a king in name,
That dull’d with ease and drown’d in fancie’s lust,
Can stile his title with no deed of fame,
Being dead, his name iron-eating time shall rust
And in the end obscure it in the dust,
When he, though meane, that vertue’s race doth runne,
Doth liue eterniz’d like th’immortall sunne.

This was the winde that set my ships on saile,
In forren shoares true honor to obtaine,
This was the prize, for which with prosperous gaile,
I plow’d my passage through the liquid maine
Vnto the Arctike pole, where Charles his waine
Fixt fast in heauen, his station there doth keepe
With other starres neare diuing to the deepe.

And there in that cold iland Island call’d,
Whose mountaines with high heads did heauen aspire,
Which white with snow as if they had been bald
Did yet breath forth blacke smoakes and burning fire,
A wonder strange for humaine sense t’admire,
I with my Britaines bold bore to the Strand
And vncontrol’d march’t vp into the land.

Whose people rude and liuing in their kind,
As beasts that wander in the desert field,
The rationall and best part of the mind
In vse of heauenly things not being skill’d
Against blind ignorance the soule to shield,
We did in fight subdue, and by strong hand
Did them enforce to stoope to our command.

Their king Maluasius noting well the oddes
Twixt vs and them in feats of martiall skill,
And finding, that no place of safe abodes
Was left to him, in feare of future ill
Did soone submit himselfe vnto our will,
And from that time vnto my name’s renowne
Did yeeld obedience to the Britaine crowne.

The fame of this exploit being set on wing,
And through the iles adiacent taking flight,
Doldauius of the Gotland nation king,
And great Gunfacius king of Orkney hight
Despairing to oppose our force in fight,
Did yeeld to hold their crownes and dignitie
By tribute to the Britaine emperie.

But should I vnto light assay to bring
Each fight then fought and euery deed of worth,
Had I the strength of thousand tongues to sing,
Or the shrill trumpe of fame to echo forth
My conquests, in those ilands of the north,
Yet would the glasse of time be quite outrun
Before that true report her part had done.

Should I relate the many a field I fought
Against Aschillius that bold Danish king,
And ’gainst proud Lot the Norway king so stout,
Whom after thousand soules being set on wing,
We at the length did in subiection bring:
Scarce would the eares of fraile mortalitie
Giue credit to our noble historie.

Yet thinke, what dread of death and dangerous wounds
We in those trauels then might vndergoe,
From Albion’s rockes vnto the Russian bounds,
And our great conquest ’gainst the northren foe,
The fame of our admir’d exploits will show:
For to the Lap-land kingdome’s vtmost end,
Our Britaine empire’s bounds I did extend.

In deeds of fame, thus did I spend the prime
Of goden youth, which lul’d in pleasure’s bed,
Flies fast away vpon the wings of time,
And scarce is knowne t’haue bin, when th’hoarie hed
With white of wintrie age is ouerspred:
For age with shame of youth’s fond deeds strooke blind,
Doth oft abhorre to beare the same in mind.

Who doth to sloth his yonger daies ingage
For fond delight, he clips the wings of fame:
For sloth the canker-worme of honor’s badge,
Fame’s fethered wings doth fret, burying the name
Of vertue’s worth in dust of dunghill shame,
Whom action out of dust to light doth bring
And makes her mount to heauen with golden wing.

After my high atchieuements in the north
I being returned to my natiue land,
Fame through the world did so renowne the worth
Of these deeds done by my victorious hand,
That greatest kings did in amazement stand,
Strooke blind in looking at the sunshine blaze
Of my great worth, yet enuying at my praise.

For when true vertue’s glorious excellence,
Mounts vp aloft, and like the sun in skies,
Breakes through the clouds of darkesome ignorance,
Then enuie rous’d from her darke den doth rise,
And dazel’d with the golden shine, that flies
From vertue’s splendor, seekes t’obscure the same,
And muffle it in her blacke clouds of shame.

That enuious beast of twice fiue hornes of might,
Who ore the world did long time tyrannize,
From Rome’s high towres viewing the golden light
Of my great fame, which dazled her weake eies,
Selfe swolne with haughtie pride, rows’d vp did rise,
And at my state with her proud hornes did push,
In hope my fame being yet but yong to crush.

The Roman king that bore great Cæsar’s name,
Twelue aged sires in senate did select,
Men of renowne and all of noble fame,
Who as graue legats his great will t’effect,
Through Neptune’s wauie empire did direct
Their course to our sea-bounded Britanie,
To menace vs with their proud ambasie.

Where when they came, seeing our court abound,
With honor’s sonnes emploi’d in deeds of fame,
Not in still waues of court-deepe pleasures drown’d:
For vse in deeds of armes and martiall game
Exiling sloth the pride of lust doth tame:
They thought their antique Romane emperie,
Had been transferr’d from Rome to Britanie.

Yet getting audience one amongst the rest,
With graue demeanor and great maiestie,
Thinking with words our greatnesse t’haue represt,
Began t’infold with high authoritie,
The thundring threatnings of his ambasie:
For he vnbidden boldly tooke his place,
And thus did threaten me vnto my face.

“Arthur,” said he, “from ample-streeted Rome
Where mightie Cæsar thy liege lord doth reigne
T’effect his will, to thee, loe, we are come,
And in his name to claime our right againe,
Which wrongfullie from vs thou dost detaine:
For long time since ye Britaines well do know
That Britanie to Rome did tribute owe.

He doth dislike thy farre commanding minde,
Nor thy proud bold attempts will he allowe
In any thing, by him not being design’d,
By vs he bids thy haughtie stomack bowe
Vnto the bending of his kinglie browe,
And wils thy kingdom stoop, though so renown’d,
To Rome, the mistris of the world’s wide round.

But if thy hart do harbor haughtie pride,
And that thy people still stiffnecked bee,
If that our words in scorne thou set aside,
Then to thy face I here do threaten thee,
That ere thine eyes one summer more shall see,
More troopes of men gainst thee we will imploie
Then erst did Greekes against the sonnes of Troy.”

This threatning speech did set my thoughts on fire,
And made me to returne this sharpe replie:
“Doting old wretch,” said I, “thou dost aspire
In vaine by vanting words to terrifie
The hart of him that scornes thy ambasie,
Nor can our person patiently permit
Those barbarous taunts, signes of thy doting wit.

Do Romaines harbor such a base conceit
That Britain’s Arthur is of lesse renowne
Then is their king, in empire, though so great?
Or that vsurping Cæsar with a frowne
Can make vs yeeld the title of our crowne?
O sillie sots to thinke vs such a sort
As your base speeches whilom did import.

Is not our noble nation by descent
Sprung from the warlike Troian’s roiall race?
And shall our thoughts be then so baselie bent,
As with subiection seruilie t’embrace
The yoke of loftie Rome the world’s disgrace?
Her fame shall fall, our Britaine state shall rise,
She ore the world no more shall tyrannize.

With swiftest speed returne thou this replie,
That we a people free will still maintaine
’Gainst all the world our ancient libertie,
And that thou well maist know how wee disdaine
The seruile yoke of Rome’s insulting reigne,
Ile bring reuenge, which Rome shall neuer shun
For that great scath which Cæsar here hath done.”

This said, they all amaz’d at my replie
Dismist, made no abode in this our land:
But with winde-winged sailes did swiftly flie
Ouer the depths of Neptune’s high command,
Of whom their Cæsar soone did vnderstand
How his command with scorne we did deride,
In tempting our disdaine with such vaine pride.

A which inrag’d, he in a fatall houre
The tribune Lucius for the warre design’d,
Who into France came downe with all his power,
Where many legionaries he did finde
Vnto that quarter of the world assign’d,
To keepe it peacefull by warr’s threatfull stroke,
Which then began to shake off Roman yoke.

And as he did prepare to greedie fight,
So did we arme vnto the bloodie field
And from each quarter of our land did cite
All such as able were with strength to wield
Or launce, or bowe, or dart, or sword and shield,
Whom we did muster vp in armes well dight
To make them apt and skilfull for the fight.

And in our absence in those forren warres,
To guard our state against all aduerse feare,
We left at home to manage all affaires,
Mordred the brother of my Gawin deare,
Our faithlesse nephew, that false hearted peere,
Th’ignoble sonne of Loth the Pictish king:
From whose blacke treason my sad fall did spring.

Whose loyaltie I little did suspect,
Though on my death his hopes did then depend:
But who so wise hath been that can detect
The meanes and houre, by which the fates intend
To mortall life to adde the finall end?
Though both the meanes and houre most certaine bee,
Yet most vncertaine is the time’s decree.

But being most secure of future chance,
My thoughts to meete the foes being set on wing,
Who did ordaine, that Augustence in France
Should be the place for each assistant king,
Vnto the Romane aid their powers to bring:
With warre’s loud trumpe from all parts of the land,
I call’d my Britaines downe vnto the strand.

Where our blacke barkes all readie furnish’t lay,
In which departing from the barren shore,
Wing’d with full gale, the ships did force their way,
So swiftly with their bending bulkes before,
That 'bout their brests the giuing waues did rore,
Through which we kept our course without mischance,
And did at Harflew safe arriue in France.

Where thousands troop’t in armes the shoares did show
Sent from those princes by alleageance bound,
T’assist vs in our warres against the foe,
Who when our feet did presse the sandie ground,
Did welcome our approch with shouts loud sound:
In euery place Bellona loud did sing,
Of horse and foot the countrie round did ring.

Our powers being ioyn’d and euerie seuerall band
Digested for the fight, without delay
We marched from the salt sea’s slimie strand,
And sent our scouts before vs in the way,
To know where Lucius host encamped lay:
But hearing nought we forward did aduance,
Vntill we came to Augustence in France.

And there vpon a chosen plot of ground
The Roman host with their especiall aides
Arm’d in strong steele for fight prepar’d we found,
The blaze of whose bright shields and glittering blades,
Did cast a sunshine in the darkest shades:
With whom we thought t’haue then begun the fight,
Had setting sun not shew’d approching night.

But when from vnderneath the siluer vaile
Of Thetis lap Apollo did arise,
And to the batlements of heau’n exhale
Night’s dewie drops, which fell before from skies,
Our bands t’applie for fight we did deuise,
And euerie one did buckle to the field,
Thirsting to bloodie fight their strength to yeild.

Then did the trumpet shrill sound out alowd
To bring them bold to the insatiate field,
And on the plaine both parts in thickest crowd
Opposing sword to sword and shield to shield,
Not fear’d with death, but with stout courage fild,
Began the fight, and none their backs did turne,
In euerie place the skirmish hot did burne.

But where the kinglie eagle Ioue’s faire bird
Great Cæsar’s standard did maintaine the fight,
There both on horse and foote the slaughtering sword
Made greatest hauock, where with most affright
To my bold Britons, Lucius, that stout knight,
Did beate the field or turning troops of men,
As if the battaile onlie there had ben.

Which when I heard, with my victorious lance
Thirsting to do where deeds of worth were done,
I towards that part my standard did aduance,
The virgin mother of great Ioue’s owne sonne,
Vnder whose badge I many a field had wonne,
Where 'mongst the foes I rusht with my bold bands,
T’auenge my slaughtered friends at Lucius’ hands.

Then prudent Ioue vpon the foes did frowne,
And in his ballance holding either fate
Of both our fortunes, made their lot sinke downe,
Vpon our steps in fight did conquest wait,
Death’s terror did the foe-men’s strength abate,
Whose hands fell strengthlesse downe, being all inclin’d
To flie with shame, and leaue vs fame behind.

They fled, and we did eager pursuit make:
But sad report on fame’s vnluckie wing,
With fatall tidings did vs ouertake,
How all our Britaine ocean round did ring
With Mordred’s deeds aspiring to be king,
Which strooke more terror to my grieued mind,
Then if the world ’gainst me in armes had shin’d.

Yet with late conquest won in mind made bold,
Returning to our fleet we launcht from land,
And being out at sea we might behold
Our owne rebellious kingdome’s rockie strand,
Strengthen’d about the coast with many a band:
Which did my vexed soule with sorrow sting,
To see false subiects bent to braue their king.

As lions rob’d of yong with hideous rore
All raging wood, makes th’echoing forrest shake
And beasts to dread: so sailing towards the shore,
My souldiers charging, with loud shouts did make
The stoutest hearts on th’aduerse part to quake:
A wrongfull cause makes fortitude giue backe,
And guilt of treason courage doth aslacke.

Yet on the land at Sandwich port, before
We could set foot, we lost much life and blood:
For with stones, darts, and shafts thicke sent from shore,
Our men as on the deckes they stoutly stood
Were ouerturn’d into the wauie flood,
'Mongst whom without all helpe before our eies,
Did many sinke, and neuer more did rise.

For many 'mongst the rest being wounded sore,
Rising againe, to shun their timelesse graue,
Their fainting browes aboue the billowes bore,
And when their lips did ouerlooke the waue,
For helpe cri’d out their loued liues to saue:
But they, alas, made weake, with losse of blood,
Sinking, poore soules, were strangled in the flood.

To wreake such harmes with sharpned arrowes store,
Steele-headed iauelins, stones and singing darts,
We charg’d the bold defendants on the shore,
Which did impresse deepe wounds in their best harts,
And made the rest retire t’escape such smarts,
From whom our men the firme land hauing won,
’Twixt them and vs a dreadfull fight begun.

Where noble Anguisell the Scotish king,
Amidd’st the foes in fight incircled round,
Did in our cause endure death’s fatall sting:
And valiant Cador after many a wound,
Did sinke downe dead vpon the flowrie ground:
Whom my deare Gawin did consort in death,
And in our right, with them expir’d his breath.

For making slaughter with his mightie lance
Vpon the aduerse troopes, though many a band
Inclos’d him from all helpe, where he by chance
Was wounded by a fatall souldier’s hand,
Yet ’gainst them all alone he made his stand,
And with his life halfe spent in their despight,
Did make retreate vnto his tent from fight.

Where through his wound, before his life did fleet,
These words hee spake vnto the standers by,
“With sad farewell my soueraigne I doe greet,
In whose defence against his foes, though I
In death triumphant ouer death do die,
Yet brother’s treason wounds my heart with woe,
For which with griefe vnto my graue I goe.

Yee powers of heauen, on whose dispose diuine
The gift of conquest doth depend alone,
Let our dread king in battaile victor shine
Against his foes, let traytors falling grone
Beneath his sword, that do aspire his throne:
But cease my words, death doth my breath exhale,
Adue my liege, I die, my life doth faile.”

This said, he slept in death, yet neuer sleepes
The fame of his admired loyaltie,
Seal’d with his blood, record for euer keepes,
His name a mirror of true constancie
To his liege lord for all posteritie:
For vnto us he in true loyall loue
Gainst nature’s selfe to death did constant proue.

Nature’s affect leuel’d by rule of reason,
The due respect of common good doth binde
Gainst nature’s selfe, and when the hand of treason
Inuades the state of kings, the noble minde
To shun the taint of blood ’gainst their owne kinde,
Aduerse in nature seeme, that loue to showe,
Which first to care of common good they owe.

Which this illustrate knight in hart did keepe,
And with his blood in death did seale the same:
Which when I heard sad sorrowe seated deepe
In my grieu’d hart my thoughts did so inflame,
That on the foes I rusht with loud exclame,
And with heroicke wreake my harte’s true loue
To my deare Gawin dead, I did approue.

In our reuenge such slaughter we did make
With furious onset on the aduerse part,
That vnto flight themselues they did betake,
Nor durst the brest that bore the boldest hart
Stand forth ’gainst vs to shake his threatning dart:
False traytor’s hearts the coward’s feare doth feele,
Nor can an edge be set vpon their steele.

The Saxon Cerdicus and Mordred both
Confederates in this treason ’gainst our state,
Did flie t’escape the meed of their vntroth,
Whom we did fast pursue with deadly hate
From place to place, vntill vntimely fate
Did by one battell shut vp all our strife
In Mordred’s death, and losse of my deare life.

A second field at Winchester we won,
Where many foes in fight were stricken dead,
'Mongst whom false Mordred his blacke death did shun,
Who with his friends although from field he fled:
Yet t’hazard fortune once more he made hed,
And on a plaine by Glastenburie towne,
Fatall to all this land his tents pight downe.

Whom I as one, that of his owne accord
Had sought to hasten death in armes bedight,
In person follow’d with reuengefull sword,
To shew my selfe as well the first in fight,
As first in name, though with respectiue right
To common good, whose state depended then
Vpon my life: I might haue absent ben;

Yet could not this disswade me from the field,
But in the morne when as the daie’s bright king
The mountaine tops with golden shine did gild,
No sooner did the warlike trumpet sing
Warre’s fearfull song, the sound of which did ring
About my eares, but rous’d from rest I rose,
And arm’d me for the field to meet my foes.

With trumpet’s blast Bellona summon’d out
My Britons to the field, and then began
Each seuerall band t’enranke themselues about
My royall standard, while each captaine ran
From troope to troope enabling euerie man
To charge the rebels with their vtmost might,
Who in the field stood brauing vs for fight.

With trumpets, drums and dreadfull shouts of men
The battailes ioyn’d, earth’s batter’d pauements vnder
Did seeme to shake, heauen sounded lowd, as when
Bold Boreas clad in darknesse, stormes and thunder,
Doth cuffe the cloudes and rends their ribs in sunder:
Both parts being eager bent the day to winne,
The fight at first with furie did begin.

And as the hunter his shrill horne doth winde,
Breaths forth lowd shoutes and vseth all his art
To make his dogs to pinch the game behinde:
So euerie where I chear’d vp euerie hart,
And vrg’d my men against the aduerse part,
Exciting them by mine owne valiancie
To charge through death for fame and victorie.

So long as faire Aurorae’s light did shine,
All valiantlie themselues in fight did beare:
But when the king of flames began decline
From steepe Olympus top, th’whole host with feare
Affrighted was, all troopes disordered were,
Who giuing back from field had fled awaie,
If I through death, had not regain’d the day.

For loe, a Pictish souldier 'mongst the foes
Spake in the British tongue: “Yeeld (O friends) yield,
No more your selues to death in vaine oppose,
Arthur is dead, and with him dead in field
His knights are laid, on whom our hopes did build:”
This spake he with lowd voice in th’heate of fight,
Thereby to turne our battaile into flight:

But I that heard and knew his close intent,
In front of all the field my selfe did show
Whereby my Britons, that before were bent
To turne their backes, turn’d head vpon the foe,
’Twixt whom the fight againe did feruent grow,
With whom I brake into the dangerous fight
In hope to meet with Mordred, that false knight.

My launce and sword did many a bosome sacke
Of life’s rich spoiles, which were all men of name,
The common sort my hand in troopes did wrack,
For through deepe wounds and death in martiall game
I did enforce my way to win me fame,
Till wounded in the head with fatall steele
My death’s approch in fight I gan to feele.

Yet when warme blood through my crackt veines flow,
And subtle aire gan pierce the liuely braine,
The eager anguish did my valor show:
For manie foemen in my furie slaine
Did pay my wreake with death and deadlie baine:
Still did I fight, although with fainting breath,
Vntill in fight I heard of Mordred’s death.

Whose tragick fall when true report did tell,
His souldiers fled away, and in their flight
Vp flew their heeles, in slaughter fast they fell,
Darts thick as haile their backs behinde did smite,
Farre more in chase did fall, then in the fight:
Yea none had scap’t the furie of that day
Had not my bleeding wounds stood in my way.

In manie a fight before in death’s despight
Vpon my head ten wounds I did sustaine,
With life vntoucht: but in this fatall fight
Remorslesse fate to end my life and reigne
With one deepe wound did wound my vitall braine:
For in the chace with torment of that wound
Deathe’s touch I felt and fell vpon the ground.

From whence conuei’d to Glastenburie by
By my deare friends, who did in vaine pretend
To saue my life, loe, as I there did lie
In th’armes of death, perceiuing how each friend
Did shew his ruth, in teares for my sad end,
These words I spake, before my vading breath
Did flie away vpon the wings of death.

“Grieue not,” said I, “to see your wounded king
Wrapt in the ruine of his life now done:
For Phœnix-like from death new life shall spring,
Which in this life I by my death haue wonne,
I dead, that left to liue, when I am gone,
Yea, this in death shall liue my future grace,
I di’d a conquerour in cold death’s embrace.

The kingly ruth which our sad soule attends
Is our deare countrie’s sight, which setled deepe
In depth of my deare loue (O noble friends)
To you I tender ’gainst all spoile to keepe,
When I in peace haue laid me down to sleepe,
Death now triumphs, my mortall daies are done.
My houre is spent, my glasse is quite outrun.”

This said, when I twice thirteene yeares had been
The stout defendant of my countrie’s right,
My soule did leaue th’abodes of mortall men,
My liuelesse limbes in secret hid from sight,
Interred were at Glastenburie hight:
Thus hast thou heard the truth of all my storie,
My life, my death, and my nere dying glorie.

In which as in a glasse, seeing men may see
That action only dignifies the name,
That vertue betters euery bare degree,
That vading pleasures vpshot is but shame,
And silent sloth the opposite to fame,
Commit to mind, what I commend to thee,
That vnto men a Mirrour it may bee.