The lady has gone to her own chaumbere,75
Her maydens following bright;
Syr Cauline lope from care-bed soone,
And to the Eldridge hills is gone,
For to wake there all night.
Unto midnight, that the moone did rise,80
He walked up and downe;
Then a lightsome bugle heard he blowe
Over the bents soe browne;
Quoth hee, "If cryance come till my heart,
I am ffar from any good towne."85
And soone he spyde on the mores so broad
A furyous wight and fell;
A ladye bright his brydle led,
Clad in a fayre kyrtell:
And soe fast he called on Syr Cauline,90
"O man, I rede thee flye,
[For but if] cryance come till thy heart,
I weene but thou mun dye."
He sayth, "[No cryance comes till my heart],
Nor, in faith, I wyll not flee;95
For, cause thou minged not Christ before,
The less me dreadeth thee."
The Eldridge knighte, he pricked his steed;
Syr Cauline bold abode:
Then either shooke his trustye speare,100
And the timber these two children bare
Soe soone in sunder slode.
Then tooke they out theyr two good swordes,
And layden on full faste,
Till helme and hawberke, mail and sheelde,105
They all were well-nye brast.
The Eldridge knight was mickle of might,
And stiffe in stower did stande;
But Syr Cauline with an aukeward stroke
He smote off his right-hand;110
That soone he, with paine and lacke of bloud,
Fell downe on that lay-land.
Then up Syr Cauline lift his brande
All over his head so hye:
"And here I sweare by the holy roode,115
Nowe, caytiffe, thou shalt dye."