The first course they together rode
Of their coursers trial made they,
The second course they together rode
Their best manhood well display’d they.
The third joust they together rode
Neither one the other humbled,
But the fourth joust they together rode
Dead to the green earth they tumbled.
Now on the wold the heroes lie,
With their blood the grass is red;
In the chamber high sit the maids and sigh,
But the youngest soon is dead.
SIR SWERKEL
There’s a dance in the hall of Sir Swerkel the Childe,
There dances fair Kirstine, her hair hanging wild.
There dance the good King and his nobles so gay,
Fair Kirstine before them she warbles a lay.
His hand to the maiden Sir Swerkel stretched free:
“Come hither and dance, little Kirstine, with me.”
Her finger he pressed, and moved up to her near:
“Sweet Kirstine, I pray thee become my heart’s dear.”
Her finger he pressed, on her sandal trod he:
“Fair Kirstine, with pity my agonies see!”
They danced to the left, and they danced to the right,
And her troth the fair damsel bestowed on the knight.