B.
As we have already in the body of the text given in full detail the accepted prose version of the conflict of St. George with the dragon, it seemed scarcely advisable to repeat these details in metrical form. As we feel, at the same time, that such old ballads will probably possess interest for some, at least, of our readers, we, instead of banishing the story from our book entirely, dismiss it to the Appendix merely, where it can be equally readily read or ignored in accordance with individual tastes. The ballad, as given in Dr. Percy’s “Reliques,” is based on ancient black-letter copies in the Pepys Collection. In the original the poem is forty-four verses long, but we content ourselves with those that relate to the combat with the dragon, and leave out those that affect what may be termed the politics of the court, the promise of the maiden to the hero, the subsequent endeavours to evade the bargain, and the various consequences to St. George and others that arose from this breach of faith:—
“Of Hector’s deeds did Homer sing,
And of the sack of stately Troy,
What griefs fair Hélena did bring,
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 well and many a day;
Where many gyants he subdued,
In honour of the Christian way:
And after many adventures past
To Egypt land he came at last.
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,
Who by his poisonous breath each day,
Did many of the city slay.
The grief whereof did grow so great
Throughout the limits of the land,
That they their wise men did entreat
To show their cunning out of hand;
Which way they might this fiend destroy,
That did the country thus annoy.
The wise men all before the king
This answer framed incontinent;
The dragon none to death might bring
By any means they could invent:
His skin more hard than brass was found,
That sword nor spear could pierce nor wound.
When this the people understood,
They cryed out most piteouslye,
The dragon’s breath infects their blood,
That every day in heaps they dye:
Among them such a plague it bred,
The living scarce could bury the dead.